


Brick by Brick

by youngerdrgrey



Category: Castle
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, Kid!Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-02
Updated: 2012-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-09 00:47:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngerdrgrey/pseuds/youngerdrgrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Kate started falling apart the day she got pregnant. Now, she's not really sure whether she's being rebuilt or crumbling even further. The wall's in place, but how high can it really be when she's got a three-year-old daughter trailing behind her? Castle/Beckett.</p>
<p>/ currently revising; changes not in posted-fic /</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 2005

**Author's Note:**

> [Original] Author's Note: I know 4x01, Rise, just aired, but this fic shouldn't have any spoilers for season four since it primarily takes place in this season-one-to-season-two timezone. As the summary suggests, it's an AU wherein Kate has a daughter, and this chapter serves to lead everyone into the !verse so that we can get this party started. Please tell me your thoughts on this, good and bad. I'm self-editing, so if you notice something, let me know! Enjoy!
> 
> [Additional] Author's Note - December 2014: Hey all, if you're reading this, thanks first of all because this has been sitting online for years now without any real progress, so the fact that people still click on it is amazing and flattering and honestly helped remind me that I really enjoyed writing this fic and fully intend on writing it further. That being said, I am revising this fic and working on it now. I'm not going to take down the old drafts because the changes aren't that extensive, and I can make them into the fic as I see fit. The biggest change at this point is that I changed Kate's daughter's name. As you'll read below, she used to be named Aimee (don't worry, the name's not gone entirely) but now she's Harper Grace Beckett. She's referred to as a combination of both Harper and Gracie, though the latter was never Kate's intention. For more on that and other changes to Brick by Brick before they all move over to here, feel free to go to my writing tumblr and search [brick by brick updates].

__

__

_His eyes were welded shut, tight so that she couldn't spot even a sliver of his doubt. She had enough of her own. It doubled every second they waited in the near silent back room of the restaurant. She didn't doubt him – never – only herself._

__

_She wasn't a good enough shot. She didn't have enough training. She never paid enough attention. She paid too much to him and not to what was actually happening in the real world. She had her head up her ass looking for some light and only getting caught in the never-ending shit that the world had to offer. Shit in the form of cases that went unsolved, criminals that lived unpunished, love that remained unrequited. Shit. Shit. Shit._

__

_She needed to stop thinking. Just stop!_

__

_Her eyes zeroed in on the wild, brown eyes across from her. A spark of emotion flashed through them as Hatchinson pushed the .45 further. Shit. Shit._

__

_"Now!"_

__

_She pulled the trigger and waited._

...

When Kate was a child, she added her own twist to every game that she played. She played Monopoly where a person had to spell a difficult word before buying any property. She forced her Barbies to abide by real time and refused to use the Barbie yacht if it wasn't summer. She used odd and even numbers for 'He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not'. She still did that actually. Her current count was up to seventeen.

Her mind focused on the counting while her eyes remained trained on the wooden door before her. She rocked slightly on the pads of her feet, pressing into her toes to pitch closer to the door. On every odd number, she bit down on the right side of her bottom lip. She felt restless, insatiable, and uncertain. She needed the door open. She needed him.

"God. Open the door," she grumbled. Her voice sounded hoarse. Odd since she spent the majority of the day silent. What did she really have to say anyway? _Thank you. Sorry. I can't believe you did that._ Or, her personal favorite: _I'm madly in love with you._ Shit, no, she couldn't say that. But then what did she say when he opened the door? What did she do? Would he ever even open it?

Yes, he would. He did. Her count reached thirty-nine when the doorknob finally turned. Kate tried to remember the old rules of the game. Did she count the one she just finished, or the one about to begin? She shook off the thought. She had to focus.

He froze at the sight of her. His right hand lingered on the knob, out of view, but she knew it was tense. She hated that he did that. He locked himself into this box that was meant to be indestructible. To protect his heart, she told herself. 'To protect her' was his typical excuse. All the guardedness truly did was make Kate push harder.

"Kid?" Royce said. Kate resisted the urge to nod. Something about that action made her feel like she accepted the name. She didn't. She wasn't a kid. She was a cop. She was a cop who got a little caught up that day, but could have done her job just fine without him. She didn't need him, to save her at least. Well, on the job.

"You didn't have to stop me," Kate said.

Royce's lips quirked downward. Though, it seemed to be more out of resignation than sadness. He stepped back and held open the door to invite her in. She stepped through without outward pause. As Royce shut the door behind her, he leaned against it. The action made him seem older, more tired. When he spoke next, it was as if they had this argument before, which they sort of had.

"I have to protect you," he said.

Kate shook her head. "I don't want you to protect me. I want..." She steeled herself, met his gaze. "You know what I want, Mike."

He did. She saw it in his eyes and heard it in the sigh he released. He ran his fingers along the scruff on his chin. He did that a lot when he was figuring out what to say.

"Kid-"

"Kate," she corrected. "Or Beckett. I'm on my way to being one of the best; I'm not a kid."

"You are to me."

"Bullshit." His eyes widened slightly. She repeated it again and added, "You don't look at a kid the way you look at me. Don't deny it because I've seen it. I've - I've felt it. When we're together, there's this pull, like gravity pounding down during a hurricane. It's strong, so stinking strong, and I'm sick of trying to fight it. I'm sick of pretending, Mike. Aren't you?"

He said, "Stop."

She couldn't. She told him, "No. You risked your life for me today. You nearly got yourself killed so that I wouldn't have that asshole's blood on my hands. But you won't even admit to feeling something for me? I know you do, Royce. I know it!"

"Damnit, Kate, I said stop!" Royce's fist slammed back into the door as he was catapulted off of it. The deep-set frown he wore during tough times emerged. His eyes fumed, radiating a frustration too strong to be just focused on her. He was frustrated with himself. For what? Letting her into his apartment? Listening to her talk? Loving her? Gosh, she hoped so.

Kate stepped forward tentatively, counting each labored breath he took. He loved her. He loved her not. He loved her. He loved her not. "No," she said. She stepped in again and claimed his lips for her own. He didn't miss a beat.

#

It was her fault. She shouldn't have pushed him. She should have waited until he was ready. She should have just done her job. She should have never been put in this position. Kate leaned against the off-white wall of the precinct bathroom. She needed a moment to herself. Everyone was suffocating out there. Karpowski, the captain, Esposito – everyone – congratulated her on making detective. Everyone except, of course, Royce.

Royce had been gone since the moment Kate first told him about the rumored promotion. She said she was going to take it if it came,; it put her one step closer to catching her mother's killer. He told her she should take it and he said nothing else. That was the day after their night together. Their crazy, unprofessional, completely amazing night together. Him avoiding her was her fault too. She shouldn't have told him. But she did and he was gone.

She sighed. The soft sound echoed through the confined space. It ebbed and flowed the way her emotions did. Happiness battled with despair. Heartache definitely worked as a better buzz kill than coffee and water ever could. She should have told Maddy. Actually, she did.

She plucked her phone from her pocket, scrolling through her contacts to find her old best friend. She hit the green call button. The ringing calmed her more than sighing. It was persistent and couldn't be misinterpreted for the noises she made in the bedroom.

"Hello?"

Kate grinned at the voice. "Hey, Maddy. It's Becks." The nickname felt a little sour on her tongue. She hadn't been called that in a while. Esposito had tried once, but she had threatened to sock him if he tried again.

"Becks!" Maddy sounded delighted to hear from Kate. She went on, "Calling because it's the fourth fourth?"

Kate blanked momentarily. Fourth four-oh! She laughed as memories of Maddy, herself, and the rest of their group huddled in the bathroom fled into her mind.

"No, but I am in a bathroom," Kate supplied. Maddy cracked up at that.

"You're halfway there then! I still do it, every time. It's just a great way to say, I'm having sex and I'm keeping Walgreen's in business," Maddy said.

Kate rolled her eyes. Going into the drug store every four months and buying a handful of pregnancy tests would hardly keep the store open. It just made the unlucky girl of the month look the part of the college party girls they used to be.

"I'm sure you have to, every time. You couldn't go four months without sex," Kate said.

"And you're saying you have?" teased Maddy.

Images of the night with Royce weeks before crept forward in Kate's mind. "I didn't, not this time at least."

"Ooh, with who?" Maddy asked.

"No one important," Kate lied. Or perhaps it was hopeful thinking. That's what Royce should have been. He was her training officer and her friend, not the love of her life. No matter how bad she wanted him to be.

"You should take a test. Join me. We can do it over the phone."

"You want to hear me piss?"

"No, God, Becks, I just want you to relive the good old days a bit. Just get a test and text me your shining answer, okay?"

Kate could just picture Maddy on the other side, sitting at her desk and pouting at the phone. Kate sighed again.

"Fine," she agreed. Maddy squealed and hung up soon after.

Kate pushed off the wall to head towards the break room. The last case the team had solved involved a teen whose alibi was that she was at home taking pregnancy tests. Since all evidence had been thrown away to hide from her parents, Ryan had been sent to buy a test to check and see if the girl was lying about being pregnant. He'd come back with about a dozen, stating any extras could be used by the lovely women of the Twelfth whenever. Kate planned to take him up on that offer, secretly.

She walked to the coffee machine and started it up. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was around before reaching to the small stack of boxes beside the sugar container. She removed the stick from the top most box and slid it into her pocket. She all but sprinted back to the women's restroom.

The next three minutes carried on forever. The only moment that didn't clench her heart with the fist of holy-shit-what-if-its-positive was when a text from Maddy popped up in her inbox.

**NEGATIVE :) –MADS**

Kate gave herself a moment to be grateful. Maddy was nowhere near ready to raise a child. Maddy still had the hardest time deciding between fish or beef at weddings.

**YOU? – MADS**

Kate's attention went back to the stick on the top of the toilet. The shining plastic taunted her like the forever gleeful white of a clown mask. The spot where the words would appear was the smile, promising to tell all sorts of secrets if ever it actually felt the drive to. Kate had nothing against clowns. She just hated waiting. A lot.

Another text came in. **BECKS?**

The woman in question didn't notice that one as the lips of the monster opened to let out the line to change her life. She felt that hurricane slam into her again, only this time gravity had no say in anything. It tossed her into the stall wall where the box for sanitary napkins jostled in collateral damage. It lifted her back into the door and the hand pressed tightly to her lips did nothing to stop the water from sweeping down her face. She needed a raft in that moment. Where was the shining beacon of yellow light or the orange raft? All she could see was pink.

#

"Mr. Xennyl, we know that you lied to us about where you were last weekend. Either start telling me the truth, or be prepared to tell the guys after a few nights in lock-up."

Kate hated guys Xennyl. He leered at her with his beady eyes, tracing the slopes of her body. She could feel it. It made her stomach churn. Then again, that also was the result of her newfound sensitivity to the smells of onions and select spices. Xennyl had the Mex-again Chili Dog at the stand on Twenty-Third. She could smell it. The last investigation had left her more than a little queasy, but this one had her pushing a little harder than normal just so that she did not wind up splattering their suspect with the breakfast she had actually eaten that morning.

Kate had to admit that she was proud of herself. Her eating habits had improved since finding out that she was pregnant. She ate three times a day, every day. She had to thank Esposito for lunches. He kicked her out every day and told her she couldn't get back anywhere near the murder board if she didn't have proof of a lunch in her system. He had a good heart, even if he was a pain in the ass. Their suspect, on the other hand, was just a pain in the ass.

"I ain't going to lock-up. I also ain't telling you nothing," Xennyl said.

She turned on her heels, chancing a glance into the mirror to where Ryan and Esposito were watching the interrogation. Xennyl whistled from the other side of the table lowly. His eyes stopped on her. She couldn't tell if he was looking at her chest or her stomach. Either way her gut churned because of something other than his horrible breath for a moment.

"You can stall all you want, but it won't change the fact that you murdered Heather," Kate said.

Xennyl shook his head. "I told you I didn't do that."

"Then where were you the night she was killed?" Kate asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know, Mom," Xennyl said with a lean closer to her. On the final word, she got the whiff she needed to send her gag reflex into overdrive. Kate stumbled back and grabbed hold of the small, metal trashcan beside the table. She emptied her lunch quickly enough and held onto the bucket to wait for the swaying to subside.

Damnit. Of all the days and times for the stupid hyperactive pregnancy senses, it had to be that one. Honestly, did this kid hate her already? Was he or she trying to torture her? Damnit. Xennyl looked oddly pleased for being a few seconds away from tasting regurgitated hotdogs. Wouldn't that have been something?

Kate's voice didn't waver when she spoke again, a feat that surprised all of them. "My basic sense of human decency has my face in this bucket, but next time you might not be so lucky."

Xennyl looked up into the mirror and asked, "Can I have someone other than Mommy-Pukes-a-Lot do the interrogation? As fun as she is to look at, the smell is-"

Kate slammed the bucket down so close to Xennyl's hand that the man retracted the appendage to under the table. As she leaned menacingly into his personal space, Kate did her best not to breathe in too deeply through her nose. Her angry, flaring nostrils helped with that. She practically snarled at him.

"Make one more comment about me being pregnant and I'll take your scrawny, little right hand and pretend I'm having contractions."

Xennyl's other hand made its way under the table at that.

"That's police brutality, you know? You're gonna be sorry," Xennyl warned.

Esposito knocked on the door to the interrogation room. She whipped to face him. She was ready to gibe him for interrupting, until she saw the file he waved in his hand. Kate turned her attention back to Onion Breath.

"Not as sorry as you're going to be. Excuse me."

She met up with Esposito with her hand outstretched. He dropped the file in her hand with a smug grin on his face. She pushed the interrogation room door closed behind her. Once shut, Esposito started talking.

He said, "Check it, girl, I got it. It took me a while, but finally my guy came through."

Kate opened the manila file folder curiously. The only thing inside was a short slip of paper where she recognized Esposito's frenzied handwriting.

"What is this?" she asked him.

"An address," he answered. She glanced back down at the paper as her own request from two months earlier replayed in her ears.

Even though Kate knew the answer, she asked, "What for?"

"Mike Royce."

Her guys were efficient. She had to hand that to them. If she told them to do something, they got it done. They hunted down guys who disappeared to apparently the other side of the country because she wanted them to, no questions asked. She almost wished they did ask questions. About everything. They just looked at her. Esposito hid it better than Ryan normally. Except for then; he just sort of stared at her as if waiting for her to either fall apart or hug him. But Kate Beckett did not fall apart, she got angry.

"You interrupted me for that?"

Esposito's chest puffed up slightly. "You told me to tell you the second I located your boy."

"I didn't mean it literally," she snapped. Esposito's jaw tightened. Great, that made him angry. Damnit. He was just being helpful, following her orders. She needed to get a reign on her emotions before she wound up on forced maternity leave six months early. She amended her statement with "But, um, thanks."

Esposito brushed her off. Casually, he said, "Anytime. I mean that, you know. Ryan too. We've got your back."

Kate glanced over her shoulder to the viewing room. She could just imagine Ryan on the other side, watching their suspect sit in the interrogation room alone. She grinned.

"Thanks, Espo."

"You're welcome, Becks. Now go get that guy. I'm sure a few minutes with your puke has made him a bit more willing to get out of there."

She bumped him with her shoulder, mumbling, "Shut up. I'm pregnant."

Esposito nodded, his brown eyes bright with thinly veiled excitement.

"Yup."

Sometimes, she swore he was more excited than she was.

#

Kate dreamed about Royce the night she learned her baby was a girl. She dreamed that she was lying in the hospital bed, a baby in her arms with eyes all her own. She glanced up and there he was, leaning against the doorframe with one thousand apologies on his lips. She didn't hear a single one. She just held out their daughter to his hesitant arms. And he said, "You're beautiful, kid." Kate figured he meant it for both of them.

The image changed, morphing into a day at the park. The little girl was older and had hair down her back. She tossed her head back in laughter as Royce spun her around in circles. She rushed to Kate when he let her go and wrapped her arms around Kate's neck. Johanna's ring was gone, locked away in a chest of other things Kate had gotten over. As Kate realized that, the world melted again. A warped, darker reality came into play.

Royce was at the address Esposito found with some new lovestruck uniform with a less tragic motivation. Their daughter just cried and cried and nothing Kate did could stop her. Kate wasn't enough. Kate ruined her. And Johanna's ring felt heavier than ever before. Like the heart of the ocean in _Titanic_ , or an anchor that somehow brought her into the sea in the first place. That ring was the reason she was in the hurricane. It was the reason this baby – this little girl – existed. It would kill her.

Kate awoke to a kick, an assurance, but very little hope.

#

"How many lines are we crossing right now?" Esposito asked loudly over the screams. He flexed his hand and grimaced as more pain shot through it. "Give me a number 'cause I'm pretty sure it's in the thousands."

Kate twisted her neck to get a good view of him from the hospital bed. He had a smirk on his face that told her he was just messing with her. His eyes were serious though. Of course they were; she was in labor and he was by her side trying to be the cocky and resourceful detective/friend that he prided himself on being.

"Shut up, Esposito. You can leave any time," Kate grumbled.

Esposito's smirk fell at her statement. He reached over with the hand not in her grip and pointed at her seriously.

"I wouldn't leave even if you fired me," he told her. She grinned lightly. He added, "Especially if you fired me because then I wouldn't be thinking about sitting at work tomorrow like 'hey, saw my boss have a baby. What'd you do last night?'"

Kate laughed before another contraction started. He winced as her grip on his hand tightened. As the contraction eased, Kate tried to focus on his statement.

She said, "I'm serious, Espo. If you want to go, you can. You shouldn't have to be here. Not that I'm not grateful, but-"

Espo cut her off with an understanding nod. "But I'm not Royce." Kate's eyes widened. How did he – when did he – did everyone – what? Esposito shrugged and said, "I'm a detective too. I'm good at figuring stuff out."

Kate didn't know what to say. She had spent the majority of the pregnancy refusing to let anyone know who the father was. Montgomery didn't even know. Unless, he pieced it together like Esposito. Shit. Had he? Did her captain know about her ridiculous feelings for her training officer? Did he know everything?

The next contraction ripped her out of her thoughts. Through her own screams and the blood rushing through her ears, she heard Esposito, who somehow was still talking.

"I think you keep forgetting that I choose to be here. I'm not getting my hand crushed just for kicks and giggles. And I know I don't have any right to be saying it, but I'm your friend and I'm here for the little squirt whenever. And you too," he said.

The pain subsided to make way for something heavy sitting on her heart. It felt too much like safety and family for her to breathe. Her mom had been gone for six years at that point. Her dad was making his way back, both figuratively and literally as his AA buddies steered their fishing boat back towards home. Her baby was tearing apart her insides to get to her. One of her best friends was there to help her through it, all of it. How did Kate say that it meant the world to her?

She whispered, "Thanks, Espo."

#

She had never felt so alone in her own home before. A thick beam of light shone into the apartment from the open doorway to the hall. It bathed the couch that had a dent on the right cushion from the number of times she had fallen asleep there since moving in. It washed over the carpet, which felt cool even through the shoes and socks on her feet. It didn't quite reach the bedroom and neither did she.

Kate pushed the door closed and flipped the closest light switch. The entryway lit up, making the place seem a bit more alive. She took in the place, still a bit off balance from her rushing out when she went into labor a few days before. It was real. The last few days were real. She looked down at the little bundle in her arms. Yeah, they were.

She toed off her shoes in her usual spot. She kept her jacket on, but mostly just so that she wouldn't wake up her daughter. Her daughter. Gosh, it felt weird to think it. A good weird. A calming one. She felt different almost, as if something about her had changed since Esposito slammed the apartment door behind them. She knew the only real differences were physical. There wasn't a baby in her stomach. She was lactating. Her body was filled with all sorts of hormones. She was a little lighter, a little sorer, and a lot more tired. Somehow those didn't encompass how she felt.

She tried talking it out.

"Hey, baby girl, this is home. I know it's not much, but I've been here since I left NYU. We've got one bedroom, but we don't really have to think about that for a few years. It's not too baby friendly, but you can't get anywhere anyway. You're tiny. So tiny..."

Kate trailed off as she reached the bedroom finally. She pushed open the door and spotted the crib right next to her bed. She ignored it, taking a seat on hers. She scooted up towards the headrest. What did she do now?

Esposito had told her to call if she needed anything. She didn't want to need anything. She did though. She needed Royce. She needed to know that she wasn't screwing up this little girl's life. It was easy to mess a kid up. She wasn't her mother. She didn't just know how to do it. She was floundering, and it wasn't even the end of week one of motherhood.

Kate sighed. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. She didn't have to look at it, but she did that too. _(925) 555 7621_ , it read. Royce's new number. She had it memorized. She remembered it pretty simply. Nine, the number of months since last she saw him. Two, the number of days she spent just staring at it after Esposito dropped it off. Five, the number of times she had typed it in and never even made the call. Seven, the number of times they went out for drinks after work. Six, how many years since her mother's death. Two again, how many times they... One, one more try.

She hit send before she could talk herself out of it. She pressed her cell phone to her ear and just listened. First to the silence and then to the ringing. It rang like the pounding of rain outside the window she knew would crash in soon. Each beat between she expected to hear the dead silence of a call ignored. She wished for it. Wanted him to turn his back on her completely because that would have to be easier to take a second time. The ringing stopped. She heard his voice.

"Hey." It was as gruff as she remembered it. Warm and inviting. She opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it. "You've reached Mike Royce. I'm busy right now so leave a message. I'm sorry I couldn't catch you, kid."

The automated voice came on, informing her that it was time to leave a message. Should she? If she did that, she would be leaving it up to him. Waiting for him again. Always waiting. She hated that fact almost as much as the knowledge that she would, wait that is. She had to say something.

_Beep._

"Um, izvinite slishkom. Pravil'nyi nomer, ne vovremya. Ya skuchayu po tebe. Stol'ko. Stol'ko."

She clicked off the phone and tossed it away from her. Why was she such an idiot? Who the fuck left messages in Russian? He would know it was her. He would know and then he would call her. Or not call her. Which was worse? She didn't even know. And she said that she was sorry! She had no reason to be sorry. He had just as much of a part in that night as she did. He ran off. He was the kid, the child out of the two of them. Not her.

So why was she the one staring at the phone and willing for the screen to light up?

She tossed her cell away with a grunt. The bed shook and her body went with it, jostling the baby and eliciting a sharp cry from the young one. Kate pulled her in closer and rocked her.

"Shit," she cursed. She sighed. "I shouldn't say that around you. God, I'm sorry to you too. Stop crying. Please stop. Everything's going to be okay. It will. I promise. Mo...Mommy promises, Aimee. I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used Google Translate for the Royce message. It's just straight to Russian and she says, "Um, sorry too. Right number, wrong time. I miss you. So much. So much."


	2. Meet Richard Castle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad to see you back again :) This chapter takes place three years later, in 2008, otherwise known as the beginning of season one. Enjoy.

A woman could only hear a bedtime story so many times before she resented every single word of it. Kate normally had a high tolerance for annoying things and tedious processes. She did mountains of paperwork and talked in circles with difficult suspects. None of that compared to reading the same three books to her daughter nearly every night. She needed a break every once in a while, which was part of the reason why she was so ridiculously grateful for Esposito.

The Hispanic detective crouched low to the ground with the children's book in his hand. He squatted next to the twin bed situated in the corner of the small bedroom, eyes barely straying to the small figure curled up on top of it. He didn't need to. Aimee was listening, every single time. Much like her mother, the three-year-old was engrossed in literature. Though different genres completely, both Beckett women seemed to like the stories where the bad guy was caught and the good guy made everything better. Esposito did as well.

When the hero finally took down the bad guy with an epic tackle, Esposito flew up and onto the bed right next to Aimee. The little girl shrieked and giggled and scooted closer to him, glancing at the book over his shoulder.

Esposito read, "Mister Clocktopus dropped all of the watches then. Maximus rushed to get them and caught them just before they hit the ground. He held them up happily. Now no one would be late for anything ever again."

Aimee considered the ending for a moment. Her eyebrows knit over her tiny, brown eyes as she nibbled slightly on her bottom lip. She obviously took after Kate a lot.

Aimee said, "I think Mister Clocktopus didn't lose 'cause Mommy is late sometimes. So Maximus didn't get him."

From her spot a few feet away, Kate's face turned down. She wasn't late that often. If she was, she always let the babysitter know or called Aimee herself. She even let Aimee stay up late some of those nights, or brought Esposito around who always managed to perk Aimee up more than actually lull her to sleep. Kate hoped that he would succeed in getting Aimee to bed that night. The latest case stumped her and she needed some quiet to piece it all together. Quiet, ha. It was practically a foreign concept by that point. Foreign. Didn't the victim have the foreign language class on Thursdays?

Esposito threw a glance towards Kate. He saw her frown ease up when she bent back down over the files. Did she find something? He wouldn't know until Aimee agreed to lay down and stay down. He turned to baby Beckett and said, "They mean that no kids are late again. Like, you for your bedtime."

Aimee's eyes widened in protest. She said, "No!"

"Yeah. You can't see that part because you're too little to read. When you're my age, you'll know. It says, right here." He pointed to a page with notes from the author. "'And then all the little girls went to sleep on time so that their incredibly handsome and equally tired uncles could crack the case and go home before midnight.'"

Aimee shook her head at him.

"That's too long to be in a kid book," she told him.

"Is not," he said.

"Is too," she retorted.

"I'm not arguing with you. Go to sleep," he said, pushing lightly on her shoulders. Aimee toppled back onto her  _Dragon Tales_  pillowcase. She squirmed around, causing her matching pajamas to crumple around her tiny figure. She pouted and then glared at him in a look that was frighteningly identical to her mother's. Luckily, on her, the glare was just adorable.

He repeated himself. "Go to sleep, Aimee."

She studied him for a moment. She sighed loudly and dramatically. She grumbled, "Fine. Night, Uncle Javi."

Esposito grinned. He loved when she called him that. He reached over and ruffled her long brown hair.

"Night, Chief."

He stepped back to the door and flipped off the light switch. Aimee's night-light kicked in, bathing the room in a soft, green glow. He offered her one last glow before closing the door and making his way to Kate.

Kate barely acknowledged Esposito's presence. In fact, her acknowledgment was simply to pull the paper timeline she had made closer to her face. Esposito flopped onto the couch, effectively allowing the wind to shuffle the papers that she had left sitting there. The action got her attention. Instead of the expected glare, Kate grunted and tossed the paper back onto the stack. She slouched into the cushions, eyes tightly shut.

"I hate this case," Kate said.

Esposito shrugged. "A case is a case, Beckett."

She turned her head to face him. She informed him, "This case is one large circle. All roads lead to the victim being this average guy that shouldn't be lying in the morgue with three bullets in his chest. Something has to make sense. I just haven't found it yet."

She pushed forward to focus once more on the reports and interviews. As she reached for her timeline, Esposito placed his hand over the page.

"You need to take a break. Make like your kid and sleep," he told her.

Kate stopped herself from frowning. He constantly found ways to tie in her unhealthy habits into conversations. Just the other day, when they had found the body outside of a restaurant, he had made a crack about the time of death being about the last time she had eaten. It was true, but Kate didn't feel it was appropriate to bring up whenever he felt like it. She did not need taking care of. She was fine to make her own decisions, just like she was before she had Aimee. Having a kid did not make her any less capable of doing her job to the fullest extent. They had had that argument before, many times in fact. The thought of the last one did bring a frown to her face. She wasn't ready for another one. Time for one of the Kate Beckett specials, deflection.

She said, "And give you free reign of my apartment? Never going to happen, Espo." She snatched the paper from under his hand. She only got to that damn time of death before Esposito took the page from her.

He silenced her protests with a shake of his head. "Nu uh. You are going to sleep. Now. As your best friend, I have the right to tell you to shut up and sit down."

Gosh, she hated the best friend card. Not as much as when he played the uncle card, but still. She should have had Lanie be in the delivery room. Lanie would never hold onto those moments as strongly. She would never use them to win an argument. It was a power play for Esposito, an easy way to throw Kate off her game with the drop of their friendship rather than simply stating whatever he wanted to. She would not fall for it. She had a power play of her own.

"True, but I'm your boss so-"

He shook his head again. He interrupted with "Not here you're not." He met her gaze seriously. Damn. He had to get deep about it.

Outside of the precinct, Kate wasn't his boss. Even more than that, Kate and Esposito were just two people trying to figure out how to give life meaning outside of the interrogation room. They were both searching for... something, something that eluded them, something that felt oddly like a hole in their realities.

Kate wondered sometimes whether there were multiple gaps for her. There certainly had to be unless the different life-shattering moments just worked together into one large chasm. If so, was Kate's younger self just stuck at the bottom waiting for a mother that would never answer her call and a man who could never understand it? She liked to think that Aimee had thrown down some food or something into the hole. Either that, or Kate had simply gotten better at ignoring it. That so happened to be another Kate Beckett special.

She sighed. "Maybe I will turn in." She would make up first thing in the morning with new eyes. She could take another look at the body. Lanie had to have found another fact or anomaly that could help the investigation. Plus, Lanie could be a welcome distraction from everything.

"Glad to hear it," Esposito said. He was, truly.

Kate added, "And I'm talking to Lanie before heading over to you guys tomorrow so don't bother getting your hopes up that I'm sleeping in."

"Another morning with Lanie?" Esposito asked with a dramatic hand to his chest. "Am I being replaced?"

Kate grinned. Jokes. She could handle jokes.

"I don't know. You do tell a mean bedtime story," Kate said.

Esposito grinned back. "You're damn right. Try letting her do it. She'd probably read Goldilocks, Brothers Grimm style." Kate raised an eyebrow curiously. Esposito's face stretched seriously as he emphasized, "Goldilocks dies. Eaten by Mama Bear. She'd run from you screaming."

"You say that like she doesn't already."

"That's child abuse, Beckett."

She shrugged. "What are you going to do? Call the cops?"

Esposito flipped out his cell phone. Any other conversation was drowned out by the sound of Kate's laughter.

#

Kate collapsed heavily onto the stool in the morgue. Her laughter from the night before seemed to mock her, nearly as much as the body lying a few feet away. The cool steel did little to ease the soreness in her muscles. She rolled her neck and closed her eyes against the bright white of the sterile room. Lanie should redecorate to something a little more people friendly, like a dark blue or anything that didn't make Kate feel like she was going into the light.

Lanie Parish bustled into the room, coffee in hand and a smile on her normally enthusiastic face. Her lab coat concealed her outfit of choice for the day, displaying a much more professional image than Kate could have mustered in that moment. Lanie paused at the sight of Kate. Kate returned the favor, neck lulled slightly to the side and a groan of exhaustion on her tongue. As Lanie opened her mouth to speak, Kate released the groan and straightened up a bit.

"Are you okay?" Lanie asked. Her concern dripped off of the end of the sentence. Her gaze, though, demanded the truth. If her eyes could speak, they would undoubtedly be telling Kate to hold the bullshit and be straight with her. Kate obliged.

"Aimee woke up in the middle of the night. She hopped onto my bed after going to the bathroom and refused to go back to sleep. It only took her thirty minutes, but it took me two hours. I'm just waiting for my caffeine to really kick in."

Lanie narrowed her eyes. Again, Kate understood what her friend was thinking without having to physically hear it. Lanie thought Kate lived far too often off of nothing but coffee and small pastries. Kate fed her daughter well enough, but doing the same for herself seemed to be too much of a burden.

In Kate's defense, it honestly could be. There wasn't enough time in the day or enough energy to be devoted to eating three, well-balanced meals between doing her job and raising Aimee. She probably still would not have been able to find the time even if Aimee didn't exist. Kate just wasn't the kind of girl who logged her meals in a food diary and counted serving sizes to meet the doctor recommended doses. She had been for the pregnancy and it was exhausting. Then again, that might have had something to do with the odd cravings.

Lanie huffed, saying, "You really should take better care of yourself. Try lying down before eleven and eating something to go with the caffeine you send raging through your body."

Kate zeroed in on the traveler's mug in her oddly hypocritical sounding friend's hand.

Lanie repeated herself. "You need to eat in the mornings. I did. Stopped at the diner down the road for an omelet and hash browns. You're welcome to join me any time. Take me up on that. Tomorrow."

Kate rolled her eyes. Honestly, Lanie and Esposito should have just coordinated a dance routine to go along with the synchronized nagging they seemed to do. At least then she would get something out of it other than lectures she had heard before and offers she never got the opportunity to take.

"I'll eat a big lunch, alright? Can we just focus on the victim?" Kate asked.

Lanie regarded her with disapproval. Kate pretended not to notice. She rose from the stool to get to the body. Lanie followed behind, speaking lowly in the way she normally saved for the dead bodies.

"Sure, let's focus on the vic instead of you. One of these days, you're going to drop dead and I will not be the one doing your autopsy. I'm sending you to Perlmutter," Lanie said.

Kate grimaced. Her idea of hereafter did not involve being prodded and harvested by a man so bitter and snippy that every Christmas the team made bets on what would make his heart grow three sizes that day. Though, once the initial shock of her death wore off, the team could get some good laughs out of that situation, like The Grinch who Cut Beckett.

She turned to her friend. "I'm fine, Lanie. Stop worrying."

Lanie scoffed. "Stop worrying, my great aunt Sally.  _You_  need a vacation."

Oh, great, not that again.

"Yes, that again," said Esposito. "You work too hard. Your work ethic actually makes all of the rest of us normal folk look bad."

Esposito leaned casually against the edge of Kate's desk. His posture was much more relaxed, a symptom of them finally cracking the case. That last examination of the body had led to finding a small scratch near the victim's hairline. The scratch reminded Kate of one of the girl's in the vic's foreign language class who took to clawing at people when she did not get her way. The rest of the day had been smooth sailing after that, complete with a confession and that typical sense of pride that accompanied the close of a case.

Kate deadpanned, "Right because solving impossible cases and uping the clearance rate is just unheard of."

Esposito nodded. "It should be. I mean, all day, we work dead bodies. Then, time comes to clock out, what do you do? You keep working. You need to learn to take a break. Go out. Let your hair down. Have some crazy one night stand. I don't really care. Just do something other than take pictures off the murder board on a Friday night."

And a Wednesday night. And every other night. Kate didn't need reminding of her very vacant social schedule. It consisted mostly of taking Aimee to play dates and grabbing a burger after a tough case with the boys. She knew the sorry state of things. But was he really that much better?

"And what are your plans, hot shot?" Kate asked.

"Hiding out from my parents. They're in town and just dying to get dinner or plan that wedding they think I should be having by now. Going home is not an option," Esposito said.

Kate grinned. His parents were... delightfully overbearing. They were very interested in family and the importance of it all. He hid out every year when they came around, making up all sorts of excuses as to why he couldn't meet up for more than a few minutes. Last time, his main excuse had been that Kate was a slave driver and wouldn't let him leave. Their retort had been somewhere along the lines of him taking "that lovely girl out to dinner some time." One chicken picatta and rack of ribs later, Mr. and Mrs. Esposito had gone back to Miami happily.

Kate turned from the board to Esposito. "You know, there's this Chinese place that just opened up that-"

Esposito cut her off. "No. We are not doing that again. My mom called every day for a month to see when our next date would be. Sorry, girl, but you're just not my type."

She knew that too. She also had a good idea of who was.

"And a certain medical examiner is?" she teased.

Esposito smirked. "Oh yeah," he said. Kate grinned just as his face fell. He amended, "If she didn't smell like formaldehyde and get her rocks off on cutting into dead guys."

"I'm telling her you said that," Kate warned.

"Go ahead. I don't care. And while you're at it, tell her that you skipped lunch to grill a suspect and only had a couple of fries for dinner. Hell, I'll tell her myself."

"I'm not a kid, Espo. I can take care of myself."

His eyes narrowed. "I know. You just do a pretty crappy job of it. Take some time for yourself."

Right, between work and Aimee, she definitely had the time to relax. She hardly had time to sleep, and when she did, one of those two woke her back up before she even really felt the sleep kick in. If someone took Aimee for a while, maybe she could get a break. Maybe. Actually, now that she thought about it.

"If you want me to have some time for myself, then take Aimee for the weekend. It'd give you a solid excuse against seeing your parents, and I even promise not to do any work."

Esposito was sold. She could see it in his eyes. Still, he checked, "You promise?"

She nodded. "Cross my heart."

Esposito sighed. "Alright. I'll take Chief. You take a break."

"Deal." She dropped the last picture into the box at her feet then shoved it towards messing a step towards the elevator, she grabbed her jacket and headed off.

Esposito called after her, "Where are you going?"

She peered over her shoulder.

"Home. You can finish up here, can't you? I'll see you in the morning. She's up by six."

#

_Derrick's heart pounded throughout the small room. Each beat resembled the gunshots he could still hear in his head. His chest vibrated harshly with each shallow breath he took. He needed out. But how? With the Dragon's men pacing the halls of the warehouse, he didn't stand a chance. Unless... unless he blasted his way out of the warehouse altogether._

_His hand shot down to the miniature explosives on his belt. The sleek metallic feel calmed him in the absence of his gun. He slipped one out of the loop and looked it over. The tiny detonator shined in the sparse light. His finger hovered over the latch. One. Two. Thr-_

"Open up!"

Kate jerked in shock. Her own hand moved to her side, but her gun wasn't there. Of course not. She was home. She took a moment to calm her breathing. In that moment, her other senses kicked back in. There was loud pounding on the door, loud obnoxious pounding. How long had that been going on? She pushed up from her bed and sat down A Deadly Storm. This had better be good, she thought. That was her favorite part this intruder just interrupted.

The voice called out again. That time she recognized it. Damnit, Esposito.

She flung open the door ready to let him hear it. Aimee barreled past Kate without a glance. Esposito pushed his way in as well. What the hell were they doing here? It was only Saturday night. He hadn't even had Aimee with him for twenty-four hours at that point.

"Esposito, why-"

He cut her off. "She said she forgot something. She wouldn't stop complaining so I brought her to get it. Your kid's just as stubborn as you, Becks."

She knew that. She closed the front door and fixed him with a glare anyway.

"Don't call me, Becks."

He shrugged. She told him multiple times a week. Honestly, he was waiting for the day she just got over the nickname. He thought it was cute. Made her sound tough.

Esposito ventured off into the apartment. He walked past the kitchen with its small dining room table and three chairs. He skipped the couch, which normally was his prime focus.

Kate watched him curiously. What was he doing? The only other thing in the main living area was her bookshelf. She was fairly certain the only things Esposito read were TV Guide, take out menus, and case files. Nevertheless, he stopped walking once he reached the books.

He scanned the rows quickly, taking in title after title until he found the book he was looking for. Once she spotted the cover, Kate could no longer contain her curiosity. She crossed to him and asked,

"Flowers for Your Grave?"

Esposito nodded. "We got a case about an hour ago. Ryan's checking it out, but it's weird. I thought about this book 'cause we found the body with rose petals all over it and sunflowers-"

"On the eyes?" Kate asked. Again, he nodded. Kate snatched the book from his hand and flipped through the pages quickly. She paused once she found the page she needed. She pointed to the passage, describing the body of the heiress. He read over it quickly, his face contorting into a deep frown.

"That's exactly how we found her. You think this guy could have done it?" Esposito asked.

Kate shook her head. No, Richard Castle could not be a murderer. He wrote books about killing for a living, but he wasn't out shooting people in the heart on the weekends. He couldn't.

She reasoned as much for her herself as for Esposito. She said, "No. Besides, why would he kill someone the same way he did in one his books? It would be an automatic red flag."

"Maybe he wanted to be caught," Esposito said.

"Why would he want that?"

"Because maybe he's crazy. You can't spend that much time plotting out the perfect crimes and not snap. This guy wrote half the books on this shelf. That's at least twelve dead bodies. He could be looking for new ideas and figured where better to get them than to-"

"No." Kate was done with the wild theories. She hated theories. She needed facts. Hard facts. Wait, wasn't the Storm Fall book launch party that night?

"You can't just say no, Beckett," Esposito said.

"He's at the launch party for his latest book right now. He couldn't have done that. He was prepping all day," Kate told him.

Esposito scoffed. "Where'd you hear that? Fan sites?"

Kate spat out her answer quickly, her face slowly burning. "Twitter."

Esposito laughed. Kate cleared her throat. This wasn't a joke. Rick Castle was innocent. He had to be. The guy who wrote those books could not be a criminal. Those books helped her through her mother's death, through Royce leaving, through being pregnant and alone. He wasn't a killer. She would prove it herself.

Kate whipped around towards the bedroom. "Aimee! Get that toy now and come on, you're going to go see grandpa tonight."

Esposito quirked an eyebrow. He asked, "I'm off the hook?"

"You're coming with me," Kate said. Esposito looked her up and down.

"Shouldn't you change?" he asked. She took in her outfit. Jeans and a T-shirt. What was wrong with that? Esposito grinned. "Since you're about to meet your future husband and all."

Kate thwacked the book into his chest before storming towards her bedroom. Esposito might have been obnoxious, but he did have a point. She was going to meet Richard Castle.

Oh, gosh,  _she_  was going to meet Richard Castle. What the hell was she going to wear?


	3. Psychoanalysis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Parts of this chapter might seem familiar because some dialogue from "Flowers for Your Grave" felt too perfect to change for the purpose of Rick and Kate's first interactions. The Tisdale murder case basically happens the same as in canon minus some changes that will be stated. This happens the day after the last chapter. Reiterating, Aimee is three years old.

Calm down, Kate. Calm down. Calm. Calm. Cal- _fuck_.

Kate slapped her palm down on the sink. The following smack mingled with her harsh breaths in a melody of frustration. Her skin stretched thin over her clenched knuckles. She flexed them slightly, not enough to dislodge them from their death grip, but enough to send the tingling sting out a bit further. It wasn't enough. She needed more. Needed to feel something. Anything other than the backlogged guilt and hurt scorching through her veins.

Kate forced her eyes away from her hands. The mirror in front of her grabbed her attention. It needed to be cleaned. Little spots were everywhere on the mirror. It almost made Kate look like she was... sad. Oh, who was she kidding? She could hardly breathe let alone convince herself that she wasn't completely losing her composure.

Why was it that every time she genuinely felt fine something had to happen? Whatever happened was never what she expected it to be either. This was Kate's luck, really. She met her favorite author so of course he had to turn around and ruin her whole damn day. He may have had a way with characters, but he sucked when it came to real people. Absolutely sucked!

Only... he was right. About everything.

...

_Kate was used to having eyes on her. She was an attractive woman who chased down criminals in high heels taller than some women could even stand up in. She worked in a male dominated profession. The majority of her coworkers still did double takes on any day when she put effort into her appearance. She wasn't normally affected by it. Those guys, however, were not Richard Castle._

_He couldn't seem to take his gaze off of her. His very interest had her adrenal glands working in overdrive. Any other time, she would have loved the attention. Rick was highly attractive himself. The light scruff on his cheeks gave him that rugged image that probably had women dropping their tops for him on a regular basis. His body wasn't the model chiseled body that Kate normally went for. It was better than average still, a little leaner and more clean-cut. He had to work out some. That body did not just appear while spending hours writing behind a desk. If only his rap sheet had had a picture-whoa, there. It did. Of his face, which was so much more captivating in person. Those baby blue eyes of his swallowed her every thought and emotion until she felt nothing but weightless, boundless, hopelessly in... him._

_But she was working. There was a criminal out there, masquerading his crime as one of Rick's creations. There was a woman in the morgue, waiting for justice. There was – he was still looking at her._

_"What?" she asked sharply. She hoped the tone would deter him. She didn't hold her breath for it. Their earlier interactions had definitely resembled the typical behavior of men in her interrogation room. He seemed to thrive on her aggressiveness. He was probably masochistic or a submissive. W-what was she thinking? Bad Kate. Bad._

_"Nothing," Rick answered. She put the latest fan letter down with a huff. Reading them was the problem. All of the marriage proposals and requests to be put in his novels were messing with her brain. His answer wasn't helpful either. He was still staring! He went on to say, "I was just, uh, the way your brow furrows when you're thinking..." His voice trailed as his lips turned upwards devilishly. She fought to retain eye contact. She didn't need to look away. That showed weakness. Nervousness. Interest. "It's cute." Oh good lord. "I mean, not if you're playing poker, then it would be deadly, but otherwise-"_

_"Can I ask you a question?" blurted Kate. His face swelled at that. Gosh, what did he think she was going to ask him? To marry her like all of those rest of these fans? Yeah, fat chance. She had better things to do. Just like she told him the day before, she worked for a living. Not only that but she had a daughter. She wasn't going to fall at his feet or into his bed. If that was why he was flipping through fan mail with her, well, he needed a reality check. He couldn't just sit around and call her cute. She was working._

_"Shoot," he said._

_"Why are you here?" she asked. His brow scrunched. Now_ that _was cute. Damnit, Kate! He was not cute. "You don't care about the victims, so you aren't here for justice. You don't care that the guy is aping your books, so you aren't here 'cause you're outraged. So, what is it... Rick?" She just called him by his first name. Was it reasonable for her to have a fangirl moment at twenty-eight? "Are you here to annoy me?"_

_He had to be. That satisfied grin on his face, the way his tongue peeked out slightly to wet his lips as he answered – he had an ulterior motive. There was no way he was just-_

_"I'm here for the story."_

_Bullshit. Unless the story was how Rick Castle got into Kate Beckett's pants – which she had to admit would definitely be one of her favorites – he was not there for a story. Not with the way he was eyeing her._

_"The story?" she repeated._

_He asked, "Why_ those _people? Why those murders?" The same things plagued her normally. At least he seemed to care on some level. She just hoped he didn't get his hopes up for some twisted angle like in his books._

_"Sometimes, there is no story. Sometimes, a guy is just a psychopath," she told him._

_He waved her off her answer by grabbing yet another letter. "There's always a story. Always a chain of events that makes everything make sense."_

_Right. She turned her own focus back to the letters. Apparently, some girl from Oakland wanted him to attend her wedding. The theme of it was_ _ At Dusk We Die _ _, something her husband was less than thrilled about. Rick's voice cut through the ridiculousness._

_He said, "Take you for example. Underneath normal circumstances you should not be here. Most smart, good-looking women become lawyers, not cops. Yet, here you are." His smugness wavered into genuine curiosity. "Why?"_

_Her mother was murdered. She needed answers. Derrick Storm. She couldn't answer with those. He would only take it in as another tragic little girl out to save the world. Nothing more than the average superhero story. Call her crazy, but she didn't want to be written off like that. So she baited him._

_"I don't know, Rick. You're the novelist. You tell me."_

_His blue eyes surged forward to find her. Her throat constricted. She kept her challenging smirk anyway. This was a game. Nothing but a game. He placed down the letter carelessly and leaned forward on his elbows._

_"Well, you're not bridge and tunnel, no trace of the boroughs when you talk, so that means Manhattan. That means money. You went to college. Probably a pretty good one. You had options." He gave her a short once over. She wondered how close to the surface he would stick. "Yeah, you had lots of options. Better options. More socially acceptable options. And you still chose this. That tells me something happened. Not to you, you're wounded, but you're not that wounded. It was someone you cared about. It was someone you loved."_

_Kate's breath caught in her throat. She was on an exhale making it slightly less obvious. Still, she felt too open, too obvious. She forced her gaze to stay on him. She asked for this. She asked for him to tell her. And, damnit, it looked like he was going to. She stifled a frown, putting her negative energy into her right pinky finger. Slowly, it moved against her ring finger, forcing her mother's ring to swivel lightly. The movement made inhaling difficult, something Castle actually did pick up on._

_"That ring," he began. She halted her motions. Shit. She shouldn't have done that. She didn't need him to start talking about the ring or her mother. He was already there. He was already in her head. Why was he in her head? Why did he seem to know? He shouldn't know. No one should know._

_"It means a lot to you. You wear it to remember what you lost. You can't let go. You won't let yourself."_

_Great, he sounded like her therapist. Soon he would be telling her that she was not responsible. He would say the detectives did everything they could. Raglan did everything he could for her mother. It was a mugging gone wrong. It was one bad day. It wasn't her whole life._

_To hell it wasn't._

_"You wear it on your right hand because wearing it on your left would be dishonest. The fact that it's on your right hand makes it more intriguing. Men ask you about it. Men get deterred by it. But you don't care. You pretend to be impervious. Strong, independent women don't want the attention. You've got a nice apartment to go home to. Men only muck it up. They cause problems. You've got enough. Not that anyone would know. The lock to all of your thoughts is the size of that ring. Behind it there's anxiety. Self-doubt. Maybe some resentment. Why?"_

_Was he genuinely asking because she definitely was not in the condition to answer? He had jammed something in that lock, enough to wedge the door open a bit too far. The anxiety was because every hour passed was one further from her mother. The case grew colder and colder. Would Johanna ever get justice? There were no leads. Kate wasn't the right detective to find them. She wasn't ready to find them. Would she ever be? She wasn't ready for a lot of things. Not to lose her mother, not to lose Royce, not to have Aimee... She was a horrible parent. She worked too much. Aimee said it herself. Kate wasn't on time to be there with her daughter. She was so busy trying to save everyone else that Aimee thought the stupid villain in her damn children's book had won. Kate was ruining the ending. She was ruining Aimee's life._

_Rick licked his lips again. Kate almost asked him to stop speaking. Her throat was too dry. He went on._

_"Because the person responsible was never caught. Because that guy who broke your heart years ago never apologized. Because the big break never came through. You can't live with that. So you put on a mask. Day after day. Katherine Beckett. Detective Beckett. Because for a while, those cops you talked to seemed like Gods. Falling, fleeting Gods who could make the world right. But they didn't."_

_They didn't. She tried to open her mouth. Her lips seemed stuck together. Her throat started hurting it was so dry. She needed water. She needed air._

_"They were never enough. You try to be, but you're convinced that you're not. That you'll never be, in fact. When it comes to you, nothing is enough. No one is enough. Not until that_ something _changes."_

_She finally brought her gaze away. The effect of those eyes and his words remained. She couldn't move. She couldn't anything. Through the physical pain and the emotional turmoil, she could still feel him watching her. Why didn't he ever look away?_

_"And that, Detective Beckett, is why you're here," he concluded._

_As if those words were a green light, Kate felt her muscles again. Her mouth and legs were moving without her consent, without even passing her mind. It wasn't until she heard his voice calling out her name that she recognized she was leaving the room. She didn't stop. Why should she? He hadn't. The pain hadn't. Life hadn't._

...

Kate shuddered. Something that sounded oddly like a sob escaped her lips. Yet, no tears fell. Her mascara remained in tact. Those were the little victories, weren't they? She was a wreck, hiding out in the bathroom at the precinct from a man she used to idolize, but, hey, at least she wasn't crying. At least she could walk out of there and pretend that he hadn't split her lock right down the middle and left her raw for him to see.

She was an idiot. She got her hopes up. She did. She thought that having him around could mean that she got to talk to him about his work. Maybe she could learn a secret about Storm Fall. But he was like a child, playing with his jacks in a house made of glass. In her heart made of glass. Gosh, she was an idiot.

And he was right. She was never enough. She wasn't enough to stop her dad from drinking. She wasn't enough to take care of Aimee on her own. She couldn't even take care of herself. Her two best friends had to do it. They had to remind her to eat and to sleep and to take a break. What was the point in that anyway? She ate and then she was hungry again. She slept then she was tired. The pattern continued. As a human being, she was never satisfied. Never satiated for longer than a few hours. Her happiness span was the size of her daughter's attention span – small, and easily shattered and drawn away to everything but what brought her joy in the first place. She didn't even deserve Aimee. Aimee was perfect. She was...

Kate remembered the first time Aimee smiled at her. Kate hadn't been feeding her, or changing her, or doing any of those things that would later earn her the toothless grin. They had been on the couch. _Temptation Lane_ played in the background. Ryan's voice soared through the speaker of Kate's cell, telling her about this crazy thing Esposito had done at a crime scene. Kate rolled her eyes at their antics and gave Aimee this look. One of those 'look at how silly our friends are' type looks. And Aimee just understood. She just smiled.

Three years later, Aimee was with Esposito while Kate hid in a bathroom. Oh, what Kate wouldn't do for one of those smiles. Kate shouldn't have sent him away after Montgomery put Castle on the case. She should have made Esposito bring Aimee to the precinct instead of allowing him to just cozy up at his apartment with her. If Aimee were there, Kate wouldn't feel so lost. When she looked at her little girl, _that_ was when things made sense.

Beside Kate, the door bounced open. She swiped at her cheeks out of habit before turning to it. Her earlier feeling of being overwhelmed rushed back at the sight of Esposito. He read her mind sometimes.

He stumbled forward at a snail's pace. Each step of his was uncertain yet determined. It honestly would have worked faster had he been able to see, but Aimee had her tiny hands firmly covering his eyes. Once Aimee noticed Kate, however, she released him and wiggled to get out of his grip.

"Mommy!"

Esposito's eyes popped open. He gave Beckett once of his questioning glances.

What? Was she not allowed to be in the bathroom? She ignored him and squatted down to Aimee's level.

"Hey, sweetheart. Funny seeing you here," Kate greeted. Aimee fell into her mother's hug with a giggle. She squeezed Kate tightly, a gift that she didn't even know she was giving. Kate held on, breathing in the easiness. She nearly missed Aimee's response. Luckily, the girl's head was directly next to Kate's ear.

"It's a bathroom. I have to potty," Aimee told her. That was a logical reason. Kate smiled. She loosened her hold to give Aimee the space to escape. Aimee headed for the stall while Kate turned her attention to Esposito. As much as she had wanted to see Aimee, there was still the fact that Esposito was just bringing Aimee into the precinct willy-nilly.

"Esposito, is there something wrong with the toilets at your place?"

He swallowed a little strongly. Another little victory. She obviously still had the mental capacity to intimidate. Or just the maternal instinct.

He answered, "Yup. It's short, under fifty pounds, and answers to the name of Travis."

Kate grimaced. Travis. She knew all about the little squirt. He was Esposito's nephew, a boy with a penchant for punching anyone of equal or lesser age than him. Aimee fell in that category. Kate knew what Esposito would say next. Looked like Aimee would be back at their apartment that night.

"I'll call the sitter and see if she can get Aimee for now," Kate said.

"Sorry about that, boss. Look, next time you want me to take her, I will, whenever, whatever, no questions asked," he vowed.

"You'll probably regret saying that," she told him. He shrugged in reply.

Kate went back to the mirror. She certainly looked better than before. Her eyes were less red and more like the green she was accustomed to. Some of the harsh lines had eased. Good. She had to go face Castle again after that, and he would not get to know that he had gotten to her.

"You okay?"

Kate looked at Esposito's reflection in the mirror. He had a few lines on his face. He got those whenever he worried about her. Maybe she didn't look as normal as she thought. Maybe he just paid too much attention.

"Yeah," she lied. He didn't buy it. He didn't say anything either. He simply lifted his right fist and tapped it twice above his heart. The act made Kate want to cry again. She did the same.

"I'll go see what Ryan's up to," Esposito said in farewell. She nodded her approval. He left the room, swinging the door open widely in his exit.

In the wide opening, Kate spotted Rick Castle, watching from the doorway of the room across the hall. How long had he been there? What had he seen? He met her gaze head-on, his own slightly apologetic but mostly just curious.

#

As it turned out, Kate was right in her appraisal of Castle's stare. Not even five minutes after Kate returned to the room, he broke the silence with a question.

He asked, "Are we really not going to talk about it?"

Kate considered ignoring him altogether. Answering his questions had not worked out so well for her before. He could want to talk about anything. She just wasn't in the mood. It had taken fifteen minutes to get hold of her usual sitter and forty dollars for cab fare so that Aimee could be picked up. Add that to her earlier mood, and Kate just didn't feel like doing the serious chatting thing again.

"About what?" she deflected. His gaze flittered between her and the paper in her hand. She wasn't reading it. He probably knew as much. She had read the opening line half a dozen times by that point.

"About you walking away when I... when I talked about the story."

Great answer. He didn't say when he basically exposed her most haunting thoughts. He didn't say when she stayed in the bathroom for ten minutes reliving the ordeal. He didn't mention Aimee. Had he seen Aimee? She hoped not.

"No," she said. There would be no talking about any of that.

He repeated her. "No?"

She fixed with him with one of her hardest stares. She needed to make it clear that this was not up for discussion.

"No, Castle. We've got a case to work on. If you want to talk about something, talk about the investigation," she said. She went back to the letter. The obligatory 'Dear Mr. Castle' finally became a thing of the past as she moved into the body of the note. This guy apparently spent a lot of time reading Castle's books. A lot. There was a doodle at the bottom. It sort of resembled the crime scene from In a Hail of Bullets. Hmm.

"Will my innate and overactive imagination get in the way of the investigation?" Castle asked.

She bought herself time to answer by flipping quickly through the folded together pages. Something red caught her eye. She turned the small packet over. No way. Another doodle took up the entirety of the page, this one of a body covered in rose petals with sunflowers over the eyes. Her tone was sharp when she spoke.

"Castle-"

He was quick to defend himself. "What! That _was_ about the investigation."

She shook her head at him quickly. He needed to focus. They both needed to focus. "Not that. This." She held up the sketch for him to see. His eyes lit up the same way she was sure hers had. She told him, "I found the story."

#

Kate pushed shut the door to her apartment with her foot. She gently placed the copy of Cabot's files on the table beside her keys. The manila folder slid slightly. She reached a tired hand to steady it as a yawn escaped. New York traffic was not conducive to staying awake at night. If only she could just fall asleep in the car the way Aimee normally did.

Next to Kate, Aimee wrestled with her sneakers. Her sluggish fingers battled with the bow and gravity altogether. The tiny Beckett eventually got the laces loose enough for her to slip her feet out of the constricting fabric. Aimee sighed in overdramatic relief.

Kate peered down at her. She found it hard to believe that she had created someone so normal and innocent. Kate was a wreck. Royce certainly hadn't been the loving type. Aimee was anomaly. A very inquisitive anomaly.

Aimee pulled on Kate's pants leg. The motion caused Aimee's overnight backpack to rest low on her elbow. Aimee paused to shake it off without looking away from her mother.

Aimee asked, "Why am I not at Uncle Javi's? He said he wanted to play with me."

"He does, but so do I," Kate said. "Can we spend some time together tonight?"

A bit of Aimee's tiredness evaporated as the little girl nodded.

"Okay."

Kate's earlier insecurity crept back in. Okay? Was Aimee upset that she wasn't with Esposito? He could be pretty entertaining, but Kate was the queen of child merriment. She knew how to keep her kid happy. At least she thought she did,

"Okay?"

Aimee nodded once more. "Yeah. I like being with you too."

Good. Kate picked up Aimee's backpack, flinging it over her own shoulder. Aimee bounced alongside her. Little tidbits about the day fell from Aimee's lips. She had gotten lunch with Ryan and Esposito at Remy's. The burgers had nearly been the size of Aimee's head so she had the rest in her backpack. Kate was welcome to eat it. Aimee wanted ice cream by that point, a suggestion that Kate vetoed while pointing towards the pajamas on Aimee's bed. Aimee picked them up and carried them into the adjourning bathroom.

Aimee examined the bathtub from knob to back. Her bubble bath sat beside the many other toiletries around the tub. She didn't have an extensive collection of bath toys. She preferred making shapes out of the bubbles and flinging them at Kate whenever possible.

"Can I have lots of bubbles?" Aimee asked over her shoulder. Kate glanced down at her in consideration. Kate planned on showering in the morning, something she normally could not achieve if Aimee splattered bubbles and soap absolutely everywhere. The warm water would call to Kate if she wasn't careful. She wanted to review those files again after Aimee was asleep. Just to prove to herself that Cabot was their guy. She wasn't doing it for Castle. She was doing it for herself.

Aimee waved a hand in front of Kate's face. The older Beckett blinked at the sudden intrusion into her thoughts. Right. The question that had started her little tangent was still unanswered.

"How about a story instead?" Kate proposed. Aimee looked up to the ceiling in thought, no doubt figuring out which story she wanted to hear.

"Alright! But I want a new story. You make it up," Aimee said.

"About what?"

"About you."

That was treacherous territory. Kate's life was not exactly child friendly in any story that didn't involve Aimee or her own mother. Why couldn't Aimee have asked for Shakespeare instead? At least that didn't make Kate's mind flash to all sorts of horrible, wildly inappropriate things that she couldn't tell her child.

Kate racked her mind for a story as the water ran. She dumped the bubbles while crossing out her college years. She got the washcloth after reaffirming that work stories were out of the question. In fact, Aimee was settled into the bath before Kate had finally decided on just mixing together a few things and hoping it would suffice.

Kate cleared her throat and sat down beside the tub. She wiggled her toes against the cold ground. Aimee mirrored the action, splashing the slightest of water towards Kate's top. Kate swatted near where the toes had been. Her resulting splash had Aimee giggling into a face full of suds.

Kate began with a dramatic flourish. "Once upon a time, there lived a princess named Kate. She was very lucky, just like you. Do you know why?" Aimee brightened at the question. Choose your own adventure stories were her favorite. Kate's as well as she got to steal a few ideas from the little one.

Aimee answered, "Because she had a mommy who loved her very much."

Kate forced herself not to flinch. She stuttered slightly, but she went on. "R-right. Her mommy, the queen, was very, very loving."

"And pretty?" Aimee asked. Kate nodded, flashes of her mother's long brown hair and carefree smile flittering through her mind.

"Very pretty. The queen and the princess spent a lot of time together. They cooked foods, watched TV, and painted on everything they could find. One day, though, the princess got paint on herself. The queen was furious."

Aimee quirked her head to the side curiously and asked, "Why? You can take a bath and the paint's gone."

Kate grinned. "Not this paint. It was permanent. The queen made the princess show her the painting right that second. When the princess did, the queen calmed down and even smiled. She said, 'I'm not going to say it this time, Katie. Just know you better stick by family now or every look in the mirror is going to remind you.'"

Johanna had looked so pleased with Kate that day. Her green eyes, the same ones Kate had, shined at what the tattoo had meant. It was not elaborate or difficult to understand. On the small of Kate's back, there were the scales of justice. On the lower scale, the Chinese symbol for family weighed down. The Chinese symbol for love was on the other. At the time, Kate was planning on becoming a lawyer, just like her mother.

"That not a good story, Mommy," critiqued Aimee. Kate faked an affronted gasp.

"That's because it's not over yet. That day, the princess swore to put her family above all else. She did everything for the queen and the king and eventually an even smaller princess named Aimee. Aimee was the brattiet pri-"

"No!" Aimee denied. "I'm not bratty!"

"Yes, you are. You're arguing with the storyteller."

"Well, you're lying."

Kate grinned. "I am. Aimee was the best and most beautiful princess in all the land. Every day, just for her, stars lit up the sky so that she could make a wish."

At the mention of the stars, Aimee turned to look out of the window. She threw the curtains back, eyes trained up to find the twinkling lights. When something seemed to sparkle, the little girl closed her eyes and started whispering.

"Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, wish I may, wish I might, have the wish I make. I wish-"

"Shush. Don't say it out loud," Kate reminded her.

Aimee giggled and squeezed her face close and tight. Her whole body was rigid and shaking as she sent her wish out into the night. Kate wondered what that night's specialty would be – a bike, a new toy, ice cream. It was easier to choose as a child. Simpler. Then again, Kate's wish was simple too; she wished that nights like that one would never end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to address some stuff about Esposito. He doesn't necessarily read the books with Kate. He just spends so much time with her that he sort of knows about the majority of them.
> 
> I chose Esposito to be at the birth over Lanie for a few reasons. One) it was my first conscious thought on the subject. Two) There's a scene that you guys have yet to see where Esposito really helps Kate through something in the pregnancy that cements him as the one she goes to for Aimee-related things. That's not to say that she doesn't go to the others, but he is her first choice. Three) It just adds a little levity, don't you think?


	4. Flowers for Your - Date?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is still during the Tisdale murder case of the Pilot episode. I hope you enjoy it.

Kate sighed in relief as the coffee went down her throat. The precinct's machine was decent at best, but it got the caffeine in her system nonetheless. Her second cup of the day normally put her in a good state of mind. The suspects with leering eyes no longer bothered her. The empty board stopped upsetting her. The whole world was just a little bit brighter.

She rounded the corner from the break room with a smile. Her night in with Aimee had been just what she needed. She got to shower, spend time with her daughter, and prove to herself that Rick Castle was nothing more than a writer fishing for plot twists. She had looked up and down those files last night. There was not a single thing that conclusively said that Cabot wasn't their guy. Castle was wrong. She enjoyed thinking it, as if that made the fact that he was so right about her less significant. He was wrong. He was w-r-o-n-g wrong. More importantly, he was out of her hair and – in her chair?

What in the hell did he think he was doing? He was not a cop. Even if he was, her desk was hers. Esposito and Ryan weren't even allowed to touch things on her desk, let alone sit in it!

Kate's grip on the mug tightened. She briskly rushed around the many different desks between her and Mister Castle. It was bad enough that he made her go through every file out of doubt that she did not need to have. She did not need him playing cop anymore. And was he touching the files? Get away from the files!

"What are you doing?" she snapped, while snatching the folder away from him. He turned to her, not the least bit guilty.

"Waiting to talk to you actually," he said. Why? She brought the file closer to her and sat down the mug on her desk.

"And you were reading this because?"

He shrugged. "Force of habit." Yeah, well, she had a habit of asking people questions until they eventually cracked and spilled all of their secrets to her. She wasn't doing that at his place of work. Though, his place of work was probably in his house or something. His bedroom most likely. Oh gosh. Bad train of thought.

"What did you want to talk about? Make it quick. I've got lots to do," she told him. He cleared his throat briefly. It was most likely for effect only.

"I wanted to apologize. I know that I overstepped during this case. It's an occupational hazard to push deeper into a story than I should. As is painting a vivid picture strong enough to make even the toughest people crack. I never meant to upset you, or make our professional encounters difficult for either of us. Much wiser men than myself have said that you can't buy forgiveness, but I hope this helps."

He reached over his left shoulder to grab the box she hadn't noticed before. The box was rectangular with blue flowers, how fitting for the case. It was large enough where he held it with two hands, yet he easily could have held it with one. Unless he was one of those people who put small gifts in big packages, the contents weren't jewelry. She wasn't sure whether that upset her or excited her. Mostly, it just made her wonder what was in the box.

She told herself not to get too excited. Knowing him, it was probably going to be an autographed picture of his face. What if it was her letter though? She had sent him a fan letter back when his books had saved her the first time. It had been signed Kate, but he could have easily pieced it together if he paired the name with his hypothetical and incredibly accurate information about her. He would never have had the time to search it out. Nope. It couldn't be that letter, could it?

He held the box out to her. She avoided his gaze and took it. It felt... heavy? Good. It wasn't her letter then. She tried to place the familiar weight of the gift. Some of Aimee's toys were about that size. Oh, no, did he know about Aimee? Was he giving her something for Aimee? That wouldn't be staying out of her personal life. That would be taking a nuclear bomb and setting it off right in the center of everything she kept away from work. Her peers knew about Aimee, sure, but the people walking in and out of the precinct didn't. He wasn't supposed to know about Aimee. He wasn't supposed to – oh gosh, she was going to have a panic attack if she didn't stop thinking about this. She let out a heavy breath in preparation and ripped off the lid like a Band-Aid. She looked down and forgot how to breathe altogether.

Kate didn't look up from the glossy cover even when Rick started to speak.

He said, "I got you an advanced copy. It's sort of self-centered to assume that you still want to read any other wild stories I concoct, but here it is anyway. I also signed it to you."

She opened the book. The black ink of the words called out to her as she flipped to the title page. She spotted her own name and his amongst other words that she could not comprehend at that moment. He got her Storm Fall? Wow. This was one of her dreams. Her favorite author – and current pain in the ass – signed and delivered an early copy of his book to her. In the dream, he normally read it to her after, but... well, she would not be adverse to that. In fact... No. What was she thinking? She didn't like him. Not the real him at least. Even so, her wonder crept into the level tone of her voice.

"Thanks. I... Apology accepted," she said. Her autumn green eyes found his sky blue ones. He seemed pleased. Not in the cocky way he did throughout most of the case, but in the way like he had gotten the right corsage to match her Prom dress and he just loved the way her eyes lit up at the sight. Damnit. She liked him. She definitely did. She was fabricating meaning for a look that was probably just relief that she hadn't thrown it in the garbage or something. He wasn't even looking at her anymore. She was hopeless. Helpless. Crushing on a guy who had nearly made her cry before. Oh Kate.

"Good," breathed Rick. His bag hung from his hand, a clear sign that he would soon be going and not coming back. He would be out of her hair.

"Good," she repeated. It was. She didn't want him playing cop anymore. He was a writer. He was a headache. He didn't listen to her when she told him to stay in the car. He went over her head to get put on her case. He, well, actually kind of made finding Cabot a lot more entertaining. He was a good guy. Great guy.

"It was nice to have met you, Detective Beckett," he said.

She stared at him in that same uncomprehending way that she had watched the book. How unsatisfying. What an impersonal and unflattering way of saying goodbye. Of course. It fit. Rick Castle was the rugged mystery writer with more conquests than she had closed cases. He did not care about her. He just didn't want to have an enemy in law enforcement for next spring when he upgraded from stealing police horses to police cars. She was so stupid.

Kate nodded and prayed that her disappointment didn't show on her face. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. She hardly noticed the miniscule step forward Rick took. She caught on when his breath brushed her face. Her eyes widened slightly. She froze. Was he about to kiss her? Wha-here? Now? Relief and more disappointment hit her when his lips reached her cheek. Warm, slightly rough, gone in an instant. Just like him.

She didn't dare look towards the other officers in the precinct. Thank goodness that Ryan and Esposito were not there that early. She couldn't have handled if they had seen, especially with the way her eyes trailed after him like some lovestruck, lost, little puppy after one kiss on the cheek. Composure, Kate. Composure.

She placed down the book on her desk. The sight of the cover winded her all over again. She sat down in her chair. Rick had sat there. Richard Castle had sat in her desk. Gosh, she felt her smile growing again. How crazy was that? One book and a kiss and she was back to gushing over him again. The day before if he had been at her desk she would have assumed he was messing things or stealing fi– wait.

_**#** _

Kate wanted to punch him. Hard. Shoving Rick into the wall was not enough after that ridiculous stunt he pulled. Ten minutes later and she still couldn't erase the image of Harrison's gun pressed to Rick's head. The showdown was too close to the Hatchinson case.

In both situations, Kate stood back with all of the training and poise of the NYPD while some maniac held someone she cared about hostage. Royce and Rick may have been water and ink, but she felt the same. When Rick had tossed his shoulder back, she saw Royce doing the same move. Her heart clenched and her hand froze in a mixture of awe and pure rage. Rick and Royce were both idiots for risking their lives without even so much of a hint at what they were doing. A good cop told his partner what was happening.

Not that Rick was her partner. He wasn't. He was her tagalong who nearly got himself killed that day. She wanted to knock some sense into him. At the same time, she just wanted to kiss him. She wanted to know what that was like before some other horrible situation ruined one of the few things that brightened her day. There were two things that stopped her from kissing him –

a) Her boys were there and would be able to give her hell for turning into that lovestruck puppy.

b) The mentality telling her to kiss Rick had also led her to Royce's apartment in the middle of the night. She knew the result of that and didn't want Rick writing from the beaches of California any time soon.

Kate settled instead for avoiding his gaze while Harrison was hauled away. The red and blue lights reflected off of the walls of the alley. She followed the way they bounced. Rick bounced beside her, still high on the adrenaline of catching a criminal. He had stopped talking by that point, but she knew he had more that he wanted to say. She would listen so long as it did not involve him correcting her word choice in her report of the take down.

"Go ahead," she said. "I know you're dying to talk."

Rick exhaled widely as he turned to her. "Thank you. I am so pumped right now! Was it as good for you as it was for me?"

Kate narrowed her eyes at him. How cute. He grinned at her.

She shrugged. "I've had better."

His grin widened. He nodded, accepting it and formulating a response. She could see the gears twisting in his mind. He gave her a hesitant sort of look. He asked, "With Detective Esposito?"

Espo? What? Kate glanced down to the street where the man in question was telling Harrison his rights. Had Esposito said something when she wasn't looking? Why on Earth would Rick think – oh. Esposito left the bathroom that day, the bathroom that she had been in for twenty minutes. With Rick's dirty mind, he must have assumed that she and Esposito were together. Oh gosh. On the list of things that would never happen, that was number one. Well, number three.

Kate said, "No. Never. He's part of my team."

"Is that all?" Rick asked.

"No." He was also one of her best friends. He babysat her daughter. He played chess with her dad whenever Jim came by. He was her brother, which actually should have worried Rick more than Esposito being her boyfriend. The latter was only disconcerting if Rick wanted to date her. He didn't. Did he? She asked, "Why so curious?"

"I enjoy celebrating the end of a big project with dinner and wine. I wanted to ask you to join me, but only if I wouldn't wind up with a second gun to my head," Rick said.

Holy shit. He did want to date her. Rick Castle was asking her out. Just as she was trying so hard to remain impassive and teasing and not a pile of jello on the floor, he did that. What did she say to that? How did she answer that?

"And only Esposito would do that?" she asked. Lame question. Damnit, Kate.

Rick shook his head. "No, but if you did, I could seduce you into submission."

She actually laughed at that. "I'd seduce you first."

"Is that a challenge? I'm more than happy to accept."

Oh. Well. That made more sense. He only wanted to sleep with her.

Her tone was dry as she said, "I'm sure you say that to all the girls."

He jested, "Only the ones with handcuffs."

Gosh, she was so stupid. Again. Why did she keep making such a fool out of herself with this guy? She couldn't even contain her bitter resentment at the situation. He didn't give a damn about her. She was practically falling over herself due to a few fancy words and that cute, playful smile.

"And how many is that, Rick?"

He paused. "J-just you. I'm not half the bad boy the articles make me out to be."

"Oh I know. You're just a boy, in a grown man's body, playing with fire and guns and real working people when your toys grow tired. I'm not a game. You don't get to take a quick spin and go back to your normal life. These guys, like Harrison, aren't player two. When they shoot you, you die. I don't think you get that. I don't think you-"

"Hey," interjected Castle. "I never said I was doing any of that. I'm... Did I say something?"

Yes!

No.

"Beckett!" She whipped around at the call from Ryan. He stood at the edge of the street, tapping at his watch. For once, his crime scene impatience would come in handy.

Kate gave Castle her focus for as long as it took to shake her head. She said, "I've got to go. It's been fun."

"Wait, that's it?" asked Castle. She looked at him a little longer. His shoulders sagged in defeat. He was almost pouting.

"That's it, Castle."

"Why?"

Wasn't that the million-dollar question? Aimee asked Kate that at least five times a day. Kate had a dozen different answers for it, most of which were different variations of 'because I said so.' She normally didn't hesitate before saying the first one to pop into her mind. Did she honestly want to say to him 'because I'm not ready to be broken again'?

"I'm not going to be another one of your conquests," she said.

"Then don't be," he challenged. "Be... my friend."

"Your friend?"

He nodded. "We got off to a rocky start. Let's hang out when you're off the clock. Get coffee. See a movie. And maybe when you think I'm less of an ass, we can try the conquest thing. If you want to."

He practically asked for a do over. He wanted a second chance to be around her and win her over. Just the act of suggesting it was breaking her down. She needed to stop being so defensive. Not every guy was going to sleep with her and disappear. Some actually cared.

He watched her with expectant eyes. She pushed at the edge of her hair. Friendship was a very low commitment type of relationship. They could get coffee and then not see each other for months. They could see each other every day if they wanted to. It was very lenient. She could handle that.

"Sure. I'll see you around then," Kate said. She went to turn and his hand enclosed around her wrist. He was persistent. She would give him that.

"Tonight? I know this great bar. We could get drinks. Bitch about our bosses. That's what friends do, right?"

The only friend she did that with was Lanie. They usually did that while painting their nails and getting their hair done. The thought of Rick in hair curlers put a big grin on her face.

"Right. Tonight then."

"Tonight," he affirmed.

She hesitated before finally turning away. She walked back down the alley towards Ryan. He held open the driver's side door with a knowing look. She pretended not to notice as she clambered into the driver's seat and buckled up. She expected to see Ryan's own brand of pouting when she looked up. She found him in some sort of staring match with Rick. As fun as it was to intimidate people, she did not need him messing with Rick prior to their... drink.

She asked Ryan, "You want to get in? I can let your boyfriend take you home, if you want to keep making goo-goo eyes."

Ryan offered her a sarcastic chuckle in reply. He added to that, "I'll leave that to your date tonight, boss."

That shut her up. He didn't wait for her reaction. He walked around to his side of the car and got in smugly. She nearly told him that it wasn't a date. She even faced him with her mouth open and the words at her tongue. Then, it really hit her. She was going on a not-date with Rick. In four hours. Kate's eyes snapped back to the road. Holy shit.


	5. Drink #1

Kate was gorgeous when she laughed. Flawless. Her face scrunched as if the joke was at the tip of her nose and she just had to have it closer. Her teeth peeked out like glistening sand about to be swept back with tide. Even without that, the sound of her laughter captivated the late night patrons of Kit 218. A couple of the regulars had been unable to take their eyes off of her. The bartender of the small hole in the wall knew better than to stare. Kate would have appreciated it if she could focus on anything other than Rick and his awful jokes.

Her hands covered her mouth in an attempt to quell her laughter. Her eyes glistened with mirth as she whispered some apology that Rick didn't hear. He shrugged it off anyway. He liked seeing her let loose. She was so tense at the precinct and in the alley. To see her like that was refreshing. Inspiring. "Perfect."

Kate froze at the word. Rick's eyes widened. Had he just – wow.

Quickly, Rick cleared his throat and added, "That joke. It's one of my favorites. Always a crowd pleaser."

"Right."

Rick nodded.

Kate waited for the awkwardness to settle in. Surely a declaration like that would make them both uncomfortable and mark the end of the outing. Not that Kate wanted the night to end. In fact, she had been nursing her drink for the better part of twenty minutes to stall the inevitable empty glass decision. Once it was empty, she had two choices. To call it a night and relieve Esposito of babysitting duty, or to order a third drink and make it painstakingly obvious that she didn't want to stop talking with him.

Earlier flub aside, Rick made great conversation. He asked the right questions that made her think and speak. She actually wanted to share with him. Rick truly listened to what she said. When she told him about how angry she was every time Esposito pulled a prank, he heard how proud she was that Espo never stopped trying to make them all smile. When she ragged on Ryan for spending more time polishing his gun than she did on her hair, Rick just made a crack about euphemisms that should not have been as funny as it was. Rick surprised her. She wasn't sure why. He just did.

Like how one moment he was burying a dangerous conversation and the next he was staring down her cup.

Kate watched him curiously as he considered it. He occasionally broke his stare with the lingering liquid to meet her gaze. He had something to say. She knew it. She could feel the words bubbling under his contemplative surface. He returned to his natural seated position with a shake of his head. He said,

"No amount of nursing will salvage that drink. You might as well just get a whole new one."

Kate's cheeks flushed. Oh gosh, he did not just say that. He did not just call her out for stalling in a normal, slightly adorable, Rick Castle sort of way. How odd would it look for her to duck her face back into the safety of her hands and pretend that he had never spoken?

What the hell. She was acting ridiculous. She was freezing and blushing over completely normal comments from some guy. That was all Rick was. He may have looked amazing in the button-up that he had changed into and had been fine with her being late due to her own wardrobe change. He also might have told her that her new outfit brought out the green in her eyes, secured them a semi-private part of the bar to themselves, and somehow gotten her to stay for much longer than any other drink with a friend had ever lasted. So what? She didn't care. She wouldn't care. She was Kate Beckett. She did not get hung up on a guy that quickly. Er, at all.

She needed to go. Or, at the very least, gain control of the situation. With Rick, control was easy. He shut down as soon as she flirted with him, every time. She raised her gaze lightly, confident that the light in the bar would hit her face just enough to enhance her taunting smirk. He seemed to detect the change in her demeanor, if his slight gulp was anything to go by.

She asked, "Are you trying to get me drunk, Mr. Castle?"

He recovered vocally faster than he did physically. He said, "You're on to me. I plan to get you completely trashed, pull you into my arms, and then..." He waited. She waited. He smirked himself. "Make you spill your deepest, darkest secrets."

What a let down. She almost would have preferred him to say what he actually wanted to do with her. Come to think of it, if he wanted to know about her secrets, she definitely preferred the alternative.

"Good luck with that."

He leaned forward across the cool granite of the bar. He said, "Come on, Detective. I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

"Your endless supply of cliché innuendos astounds me," she told him. His face lit up jovially. He was like a kid at Christmas. His eagerness to amuse her rivaled Aimee's whenever ice cream was mentioned. He practically slid off of his stool when he moved in even closer.

He whispered, "I hate dolphins. One tried to kill me last year. I've never recovered."

Kate laughed. That was an image worth picturing on a hard day. Bad boy, mystery writer gets his ass handed to him by peaceful sea creature. It made her think of what Ryan said about writers being men of inaction. If that qualified as a secret, Rick definitely needed to get out more.

"That's not a secret, Castle. It's just an embarrassing story. You'll have to try harder. Say something that will shock me," she challenged.

He jested, "Fishing for spoilers, Detective Beckett? Well, I won't crack. You'll have to read your advanced copy just like everybody else."

Kate shook her head. She hadn't been thinking of his writing. This was about the man behind the bestsellers. "Not about the books. About you." He had to have known that. Perhaps he was stalling himself.

Why would he? Rick had been forthcoming before. He had all sorts of witty remarks and connections that he dropped into every conversation. His life was certainly not very private. He attended all sorts of publicity events, not to mention the fact that he tweeted every second of every day. He had no reason to back out of his own idea. Guys like him loved to talk about themselves.

"I'll say something that you can't get off the fansites. The most important thing in my life is Alexis. She's more important than all of the words in all of the books. Except maybe In a Hail of Bullets because I wouldn't even have her without it."

Wow. That was not what she was expecting. She half expected him to brag about being great with women since he lived with two and had been married twice. Nope, he had to go and talk about his daughter. She knew the feeling. Aimee – no, she did not need to start thinking about Aimee. If she did, she would wind up talking about her and that was not what she did on the first date. First not-date. First drink. Shit.

Rick drew her attention with a clearing of his throat. He prompted, "Your turn, Detective."

Her turn. She couldn't talk about Aimee. Work was off the table. Her parents were not an option. She had to think of something. Why was it so hard to think of something that wouldn't scare him off or shut her down? Rick had just talked about something that meant a lot to him. It was kind of funny that he seemed to write off the books without a second thought. She could never do that. Oh!

"You remember the extensive Richard Castle book collection in the precinct this week? Mine. Taken right off of my book shelf," she told him.

He smiled. Good. She had gotten out of that one.

"Nice to hear you say it, but that's not new information." Or not. "Try again."

Rick dished back exactly what he got. It was a great quality in a sparring partner. In a friend? It was debatable. She looked down in thought. She loved granite-topped surfaces. The pattern of the rock was oddly transfixing despite resembling some tragic deterioration, like the wreckage at a horrific crime scene. Most crime scenes caught Kate's attention. They made her side itch and her back burn in a way that fueled her. The heat was localized to the parts of her body marked with what made her who she was. She could share that.

"I have two tattoos, one of which has never been seen by anyone other than the tattoo artist."

Rick's face brightened. "Why? Is it disgusting? Is it embarrassing?" His eyes narrowed playfully. "Ooh! Is it a tramp stamp?"

A chuckle slipped out without her permission. He permanently lived in the gutter, didn't he? She shook her head.

"None of the above. It's just personal." His eyes reflected a serious understanding, far too serious in Kate's opinion. She added jokingly, "And require much less clothing than friends in the bar can handle."

He didn't miss a beat. "You would be surprised by how much I can handle, Detective."

Pleasantly surprised, her mind tacked on. Pleasingly. Pleasurably. Happily and magically and hopefully surprised. But not. She would not be surprised. She was going to be friends with Rick. At the very least, she was not going to cave in the first time Rick bought her a drink. She needed perspective. Time away from his glimmering blue eyes and haltering smile.

"Maybe later, Castle. I think it's time for me to turn in," she said. The way his face fell was comical in an adorable sort of way. His shoulders sagged as his eyebrows shot up in protest. She was surprised his voice didn't come out in a whine the next time he spoke.

"Already?"

She nodded. "You didn't think it'd be that easy, did you?"

He shook his head. He didn't. He gave her a sad, defeated smile. He really didn't want her to go. "A man can hope."

She hoped too. Hoped that maybe the friend thing could turn into something more. She just wasn't sure how well equipped she was for anything more. The last time she had been in a relationship had not turned out well. It had been fine at first, but it eventually blew up in her face. Aimee had been younger and hadn't been that affected, which just sort of made Will's point that she wouldn't care one way or the other if they packed everything up and went to Chicago. Kate could never have done it. She was rooted to New York and her boys and that small promise that in this town she could get the answers she needed. Kate rebuilt her life to know who killed her mom. No man had ever understood that. Except for Royce... Forget what she was thinking before; she and Rick needed to be friends. Anything else would only wind up hurting her.

"Goodnight, Castle," she said as she rose from her stool. She brushed her hands down her jeans to stop them from reaching out to him. Her only options there were a handshake or pulling him to her. Neither felt appropriate.

"Goodnight, Kate," he said with a wistful sort of look in his eye. He had to sense her hesitance to go. He saw that this wasn't a rejection or the end. He had to. And if he didn't, well, she could accept that too.

With a quick glance at the glass still lightly coated in Bourbon and another around the dim room, Kate left Kit 218. The night air whipped at her face, forcing her cheeks to be almost as pink as they were in Rick's presence. Red light bathed the street in an eerie glow. It almost made her wish she were back inside, laughing at another joke or hearing what other 'secrets' Rick had to share.

A honk broke her out of her thoughts. A gruff man nearly leaned out the window of a cab, impatience clear on his face.

"You gettin' in or what?" barked the cabbie. She was.

She opened the door and rattled off her address while buckling in. She rested her back against the worn cushioned seating. That was better than a stool, she thought. It also moved, meaning she would be home soon enough. She took in the time from the digital radio in the front seat. 9:58. Aimee was already asleep. Esposito was probably looking at the clock and waiting for her to return to say whatever smartass comment he saw fitting.

_Ding!_ Or he was being impatient and just texting it to her instead. Kate rolled her eyes in advance before flipping open her phone and opening the new message.

She froze. The text was from Castle. She glanced over her shoulder to the bar fading away in the distance. He was already texting her? Wasn't that breaking the guy code or something? She didn't mind if it was. It was actually kind of sweet.

His text read: **SAME TIME TOMORROW?**

She had to bite down on her lip to stop from smiling too widely. It didn't work that well, but she didn't start squealing like a teenager so it was a win. That man would be the death of her. He would have to be. She was considering it. She wasn't even five minutes away from him and she was planning the next time they would be together. What happened to perspective, Kate?

**I'LL THINK ABOUT IT** , she replied.

He would love that. Her evasive answers just seemed to spur him on. She wondered how he would respond. Maybe Rick would try to convince her with some poetic and cheesy comment. He seemed like that kind of guy. Despite the friend element, she knew he would be trying to woo her. He had that same determined look all of the guys got when she turned them down. She just had to wait it out. And resist.

_Ding!_ She couldn't even fight her grin the second time. She opened the message and-Esposito? Damnit. She wasn't looking for a text from him. She didn't want a text from him. She sighed.

**WALK OF SHAME TMRW MRNG?**

Such a smartass. She quickly typed out a response.

**ONLY IN HIS DREAMS. BE THERE IN TWENTY. -KB**

Her phone jingled again from Esposito. She snorted when she opened the message and saw nothing but a frowning face.

_**#** _

Rick was at Kate's desk when she got there the next morning. His charcoal button down gave him a smoky, mysterious sort of look. It would have been alluring if it weren't for the fact that he was again sitting in her chair, flipping through papers. Kate froze before he could see her.

She stood behind the short wall separating parts of the precinct. Her sudden stop left her feet feeling incredibly solid in her heels, like cinderblocks. She chanced a glance around. Exactly how many people had Rick spoken to while invading her privacy? Was he bothering them? Was he asking them about her? Oh, gosh, what were they saying back? She turned sharply to watch Rick again, completely missing Ryan as he strolled up behind her.

Ryan peered over Kate's shoulder at the engrossed writer. The tension in Kate could have been spotted from a mile away. She was trying to figure something out, nothing new to the younger detective. Ryan might have been the newest of the team of detectives, but he knew something had to be happening there. Kate was hot. Kind of crazy attractive and the fact that she knew many different ways to kill a person oddly seemed to fascinate everyone around her. Ryan was very familiar with the look on Rick Castle's face. He was also very familiar with the typical protective feelings he felt that went along with it.

From behind her, Ryan asked, "What's he doing here?"

Kate acknowledged Ryan's presence with a shrug and a new tilt in her neck. Her left hand wandered to that spot below her ribs that it did whenever she started thinking too hard.

She distractedly answered, "I just got here. How would I know?"

Ryan's eyes narrowed at her. The only times she ever arrived around the same time as him were when Aimee was sick. Considering Kate's relatively calm demeanor, the other logical response would be a very good night the night before. She hadn't been with Aimee last night, which left that she actually had gone out on a date. No wonder Rick was at her desk.

"You _just_ got here? Why so late, Beckett? Have some fun with Mr. Murder over there?" Ryan asked.

"No," Kate said. She left it at that and went back to watching Rick at her desk. Was this going to be a regular thing? She really hated people messing with her things. Though, she hadn't had anything on her desk when she left last night worth messing with. What was Rick doing?

"Yo, Beckett. What's with your boy there?" Esposito asked as he joined them.

Ryan spoke up. "My guess is she gave him something special to remember their time together last night and he just couldn't let it go."

Esposito laughed. Kate whipped around to glare at them both.

"Can you two grow up? And I wasn't on a date with Castle last night," she said. Predictably, Ryan and Esposito looked to each other. Ryan seemed to be asking his partner some sort of question, to which Esposito only shrugged. After a moment or two of the silent conversation, they zeroed in again on Kate simultaneously.

"You weren't?"

"Who with?"

"Tell us."

Her boys were like puppies racing for dog food. Had it really been that long since she went on a date that her night was all that they cared about? Maybe she needed to get out more too.

She rolled her eyes at them. "Sure thing. But, we have to wait until after we play Truth or Dare."

Esposito huffed loudly. Ryan crossed his arms over his chest. He looked from Kate to her desk with a renewed thirst. He asked, "If you weren't with Castle, why's he here?"

"Why don't I go find out?" Kate asked. She rounded the corner and made the beeline for her desk. Unlike the last time, she had both hands available to snatch away whatever Rick had in his grubby, little paws. She reached the desk and waited.

Rick flipped the page inside of the manila folder, completely unaware. He hummed as he tapped on a note she had written the night before. He flipped it back and went on.

Ryan and Esposito poked their heads around the wall. They whispered something that Kate could not catch, but from the cocky grin on Ryan's face, she figured it wasn't good news for her. She cleared her throat, effectively getting Rick's attention.

Rick beamed when he saw her. His smile lit up his eyes and his whole body seemed to sit up a little straighter. He greeted her with a cheerful "Good morning, Detective." Her eyebrows furrowed. The deal was one case. One murder. She agreed to a drink already so what did he want with her now? Unless he was going to try and convince her to get a second one then. At her desk. In the precinct. In front of everyone. Oh no.

"Now's not a good time, Castle," she told him hastily.

"But you just got here. I had a question, a proposition actually," he said.

Oh great. "I just think that whatever you have to say would be better handled outside of the precinct. Away from my peers," she hinted.

"It's not about them. It's about you. Kate, I was wondering if you would do me the honor of allowing me to-"

She groaned. "Castle."

He didn't listen. "To shadow you." What?

"What?"

"Shadow you. You know, follow you around on the job?" Rick slowly started to smirk. He leaned closer to her. "What did you think I was going to ask you?"

Kate responded to that with her best imitation of a fish out of water. Her mouth opened and closed rapidly before she let out a heaping breath of air and shook her head. He was still full of surprises.

"That. I just didn't want the boys to get jealous," she said, with a quick glare towards the wall. Ryan and Esposito merely offered a cheerful wave to her. She turned back to Rick, who watched the exchange with rapt attention.

"You see? That interaction is exactly what I want to understand. More than that, I want to understand the best part of the Twelfth. My new series of novels will take a different turn starting with a tough but savvy female detective," Rick pitched.

Did that mean her? Rick was going to base a character off of her? Had she actually died during that weekend in the apartment with Aimee? This was unreal. No one had ever thought she was that interesting before. Sure, men had wanted to photograph her or paint her or sing her songs, but he wanted to immortalize her in a novel.

"I-I'm flattered that you would think that I would make good character to be in one of your books," she said.

Rick shook his head. A moment of panic consumed her. He didn't want her. She was stupid to believe it. He just wanted to know about the precinct He wouldn't want her. She might be good for a drink, but a novel? No one wanted to read about the sad girl who became a cop out of some warped DC worthy complex to find her own sense of order in a chaotic, unorganized world.

"I don't want you being in one of my books, Kate." What was wrong with her? She continued to walk into these horrible situations with him, time and time again. "I see you – or her – as the forefront, the next Derrick Storm. She's captivating from the very first glance, the very first word, and no one wants to step away. They won't unless she makes them. Unless she tells them no, which I'm hoping that you won't."

Oh.

Kate blinked a few times just to make sure she wasn't imagining it. He said the next Derrick Storm. That meant novels. Plural. He wasn't just interested in her for one night or one date. He wanted her style, her team, and her essence. The only difference between that and what had happened before would be a book at the end. How long would it take to reach that end? How many cases until he put a bullet through her head? Damn, she should not have read Storm Fall last night. But how could she not? She couldn't resist anything Rick came up with. His books led her to the ledge and brought her safely back down every time. He would do that if he followed her. He would.

"If the captain is okay with it, I am," Kate said.

Rick grinned broadly. "The captain and the mayor have already approved it. I'll eventually have to sign some paperwork, but I'm in the clear."

Really? "When did you do that?"

He shrugged and said, "I had to do something after you left me at the bar last night."

Kate flushed. Their night sounded so wrong when he phrased it that way. No, not wrong, just inappropriate. A night at the bar should end with both of them stumbling into work the next day, not with him chatting it up with the mayor at ten. If one of her boys heard that... She suppressed a shudder at the thought.

Ryan and Esposito still stood by that damn wall a ways away from her desk. They had long since abandoned their subtlety for trying to hear. She wondered just how much they had heard. She didn't need them poking into her social life anymore. It was their fault she had been with Will and the few other small dates she had been on over the last few years. Lanie didn't need to know either. On that note, there were quite a few things Rick didn't need to know.

Kate cleared her throat. She said, "There will be ground rules."

"I thought there would be," Rick said. Good.

"First, the precinct is a place of business. Here, we solve crimes. This isn't a sleepover, so we won't be swapping stories or secrets or anything like that. No asking around for personal information. No digging through my things. No sitting at my desk." She lowered her gaze to where he was still comfortably seated in her chair. Slowly, he rose, leaving him face to face with her. He was close. Too close. She said, "And you are not to go running around my crime scenes like they're playgrounds. Are we clear?"

Like his eyes and intentions, bare to her as she tried to maintain her focus. Like the bottom of the glass that had begged her to stay. Like her inbox last night when he never sent her another message. What was up with that?

Rick nodded. "Roger that. I will be a silent observer. Minus the silent part."

She wondered how silent he would be had their night turned out differently. She certainly wouldn't have been –

"Okay!" She cut off her thoughts with the loud exclamation. Rick raised an eyebrow at her. She amended her statement, "Okay, rule number two: this-" and she motioned between the two of them slightly "-can't happen at the precinct, or near it, or be mentioned again, if it continues."

Rick's eyes got that hopeful look again. He asked her, "Do you want it to continue?" Yes. Of course. He added, "As friends I mean."

Right. They were just friends. "I'll have to think about it. I can tell you tonight, if the drink offer is still on the table."

His eyes darkened. He obviously bought the friends title about as much as she did.

"It is," he said.

"Then tonight," she said.

"Tonight," he affirmed.

"What's happening tonight?" Ryan asked, again from over Kate's shoulder.

Kate racked her mind quickly for a response. Tonight was a... gosh, what day of the week was it? Her days all blended together. Did _Desperate Housewives_ play on whatever day it was? When was the last time she had actually watched that? College? The academy? She could say she was watching _Temptation Lane_. Scratch that. The boys would never let her live that down.

"Tonight, I will begin officially shadowing the NYPD as research for my new book," Rick informed them. Kate found herself nodding along and turning to see her fellow detectives.

Neither of them looked convinced at the answer. Ryan had that same look on his face as if he was trying his damnedest to sort through to the truth. He had a way for digging under the surface with some Irish intuition or something that just rubbed Kate the wrong way. It worked well in interrogation, but not when it was used against her. Esposito just continued to give Rick a low, menacing glare.

"Yeah right," Esposito barked.

"Beckett would never agree to that. She hates you," Ryan said.

"I don't hate him," Kate said.

Ryan turned his stare back to her. "You don't, eh?" Damnit.

Kate looked again to Rick for help. Esposito spoke up before the writer could attempt to.

Esposito had yet to take his focus from Rick. It was to Rick that he said, "That's bullshit. You're not writing a book."

"I actually am. I started it last night," Rick told him.

"Prove it," Ryan and Esposito said together. Kate was starting to understand why the two worked so well together. Their twin intimidation method worked out nicely.

"Fine," Rick said. He pulled his phone out of his coat pocket. He pressed a few buttons before facing the boys again. "This was a spur of the moment little scene, so it all doesn't quite add up yet. I apologize," he said.

Esposito said, "Just read it, Castle." And so Rick did.

His eyes flew back and forth between the words on the small LED screen and the faces of the three detectives. As always, his voice was smooth like honey and dripped the words down the back of their collars until each syllable slid along their spines to stop all motion. All thought. All they heard were his words. His world. His Kate.

"'She fought for everything in her life. The men she worked with envied her spirit, her drive. They often wondered why she worked so hard for every case. Why every victim mattered more than her own safety was beyond them. She went in vest-less and alone, but never in a state of weakness. She simply never felt it.'"

Rick's gaze met Kate's as if asking how accurate he was. She couldn't answer. She forced herself to look elsewhere. She saw that she and her boys were not the only ones listening to the tales of Richard Castle. At least half of the precinct had tuned in.

Rick continued, "'Even that night, as she stood in her apartment hallway, shoulders tense under the slight shine of drying bubblebath, she exuded a sense of calm. She fought for that as well. Many years of talking herself down and building her strength up had left her in a place where that troubling noise could not reach her. It could do no more than trip an alarm to prepare her for what was to come.

"'Or so she told herself as she strained to hear anything over the sounds of New York and her own, quickening pulse.'"

Rick finished to a near silent precinct. Ryan, Esposito, and countless other officers of the law stared on in rapt attention. Every pair of eyes was widened, and every heartbeat a little faster than it was before he began. Kate's breaths were shallow. One specific gulp of air had her unable to speak. She tried to swallow it in the same way she did her feelings. She failed.

Esposito didn't have the same problem she did. He regained his composure sooner than the rest of the lot. His face broke into an approving grin as he clapped Rick on the shoulder.

He said, "I loved it. But don't forget that she doesn't work alone. She's got this charming, handsome, tough guy working right alongside her."

Kate chuckled as Rick nodded.

"You're right," said Rick. "I forgot about Detective Ryan."

Esposito narrowed his eyes. The joke obviously didn't tickle him the same way it did for the aforementioned blue-eyed man. Ryan turned to Kate, still laughing himself.

Ryan told her, "I kind of like him."

Kate looked from Ryan to the group of detectives who were slowly returning to their work. Each of them still had Rick in their peripherals. They were waiting to know what happened next, she was sure. She circled around to Rick who again seemed to be waiting for her approval. He had it. Boy, did he ever. She approved of his writing and his attention to detail. She approved of the way he reduced everyone around him into nothing more than a receptor to his vision. She approved of him.

She didn't say anything else. She figured everyone in the room could hear her thoughts though, whispering, 'Me too.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did Rick's excerpt seem a little familiar? If you've read Heat Wave, the passage I wrote is inspired by one of the scenes in the novel. There are no direct quotes, but it is similar.
> 
> Special thanks to FFN user, LittleMiss543, for reading over this chapter over and quelling my nerves about it.


	6. Toddlers & Text Messages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during the second episode ("Nanny McDead"). I think it would be fun to watch the episode and then read this, but that is merely a suggestion.

Kate swept through the doorway to the laundry room. Her steps were even and measured, causing a steady click of her heels onto the cool tile below. The room's acoustics amplified the sound. She wondered if it had done the same for the thumping of the body in the dryer. Which part of their victim made the loudest noise, the head or the hands? It should have been the head, but the weight of the mind never counted for much those days.

Esposito stood close to the body. He flipped the page on his note pad and studied the inside of the circular pit. A child's laundry surrounded the deceased. It made Kate want to go buy Aimee a new wardrobe. She chortled mentally. Yeah, right, on her salary a new wardrobe for either of them was definitely out of the question. Gifts and necessities were the only instances where splurging on clothing was allowed. Kate doubted that the people living in this apartment building worried the way she did about waiting until payday to shop. Though, their victim didn't exactly scream money to Kate. She would have to ask Espo about that.

Esposito beat her to the punch. He spoke up as he watched the doorway, no doubt waiting for Castle to appear.

"Hey, Becks, where's your shadow?" he asked. Kate's brain flashed back to the last story she had read to Aimee.

She responded, "Floating around with Wendy. I'll sew him on later, when we're not at a crime scene."

Esposito glanced away from her subtle reprimand. She followed his gaze to the dryer. The body curled into itself as the victim's hand hung limply out of the open door.

"A little fluff wouldn't hurt," said Esposito seriously. Kate cracked a smile, but didn't join in on the joke.

She visually canvassed the room. No damage to the room meant the victim was most likely unconscious before the killer pressed start on the machine. The lack of scuff marks also told Kate that either the killer was very strong, or the victim was knocked out in that room and close to the hiding place. The only items in the room were the basket from the old lady outside and – bingo. A bottle of bleach lie abandoned on the ground, not too far from a metal table that seemed like it could also pack quite the punch to a skull.

"Make sure CSU takes the bottle," Kate said. Esposito made a quick note on his pad before starting with everything he knew about the victim.

"Our vic didn't live in the building. She worked here as a nanny," Esposito informed her.

"Kind of like you then?" Ryan quipped as he entered the room. Esposito didn't even look away from Kate, which gave her the opportunity to see the little twitch of that vein in his neck.

"I am not now and never will be a nanny. I just take care of a kid when I want to," Esposito said. Ryan scoffed lightly.

"Yeah, and you just so happen to want to every time Beckett has a date." Ryan rounded on Kate. "How was that, by the way?"

Kate inwardly sighed as the boys' current favorite topic was brought into the conversation. For the past twenty-four hours, every conversation somehow related to where Kate had been the other night. The boys had even taken to spouting out ridiculous theories in hopes of wearing down her resolve and forcing her to tell them. Their latest theory had included a drug lord-slash-soccer dad she had met through Aimee's babysitter. The one bright side to the madness was that none of their dumb ideas involved Castle. She planned to keep it that way.

She told them, "It wasn't a date. I was thirsty. He was thirsty. We got a drink."

Ryan and Esposito shared an exasperated look. They weighed whether or not to push. Ryan stole a glance at the blood on the table and shook his head. Kate bit her lip to stop from smirking. She won again.

Esposito shrugged at Ryan, saying, "You know what, it was over before ten. Guy's a goner."

Drink number one may have ended by ten, but drink number two went past eleven. She smirked as she said, "I wouldn't be so sure, boys. There was a second drink."

Ryan's eyes bulged and he swatted lightly at Esposito with his own notepad. The Hispanic detective hit him back. A battle of wills and stares ensued that ended as Castle walked into the room.

Rick threw his arms into the air excitedly. Unlike with the last case, his gaze went straight to Kate and remained there. He crossed into the room with his typical confident air, but there was something different. Something bubbly that hadn't been there when she ditched him at the precinct that morning.

Rick announced, "I am now free to move about the city."

Kate rolled her eyes at the line. "Fasten your seatbelt, Castle; we've only got the preliminary work today. CSU is down here, and we've got to talk with the owners of the apartment she worked at."

"12F," interjected Rick. Kate cocked her head to the side curiously. He grinned widely. Ah, that's why he was happy. He thought he was being helpful. Rick rattled off what else he knew. "The doorman's a fan. Our victim is Sara Manning, and she worked for Claudia and Howard Peterson for two years. Their son's name is Justin."

Kate looked from Rick to her boys who looked as appreciatively stunned as could be. She was sure Esposito's notes had the same information. Still, she couldn't resist poking fun at them the same way they did for her.

"Wow, it's like he's doing your job for you," Kate said to them.

Esposito recovered with "We look better doing it."

"Plus, we've got these fancy badges. What does he have?" Ryan asked.

Rick answered easily, "A way with words that would make anyone putty in my hands."

"Can't charm your way out of a bullet," Esposito told him.

"Or a dryer," Kate said. All three boys turned to her with matching guilty looks. Times like those she felt like Aimee was not her only child, or the most difficult one. "The victim, guys. Ryan, Esposito, stay here with CSU. Castle, you're with me."

Rick beamed at the other two triumphantly. The detectives huffed. Babysitting the body was definitely not high up on their to do lists. Well, it was now.

Kate led the way out of the laundry room with Rick on her tail. They were well into the hall when Kate heard Ryan asking confusedly, "Wait, does that make Montgomery Wendy?"

#

Rick Castle was five. Honestly, he had the energy and maturity of Esposito's nephew, Travis. Only instead of hitting the younger kids, Rick just annoyed the crap out of Kate.

He bounced in the passenger seat of the crown vic, positively bubbling over at the affair angle the case had presented. The husband and the nanny were sleeping together. Kate had seen it before, but it was Rick's first time seeing it in real life. Or, was it? He said that he was Alexis's nanny, but had he always been?

"The whole no nanny thing, was that a choice on your part or your ex-wife's?" Kate asked.

Rick stilled. No wonder, Kate was purely professional within the hours of the workday. He pushed the boundaries of her rules with slight nudging questions regularly. She waited until the next drink. Not wasting the opportunity for a personal conversation, Rick answered.

"Mine. I wanted to be with Alexis as much as I could. Besides, her terrible twos led to some of the most tension-filled parts of some of my early work."

Kate winced. Terrible twos were not the myth she had hoped they would be. Aimee had been an absolute handful. Still was sometimes. There were some mornings where Kate would try to leave and Aimee would just cry. She threw tantrums and played guilt trips by looking at Kate with those brown eyes and saying that she just missed her mommy. She also bit Kate.

Kate spoke in agreement. "Toddlers."

Rick curiously turned his eyebrows up. Kate winced for a second time. Shit.

She had to stop saying things like that. Rick couldn't know about Aimee. If he knew, he would change his mind about Kate, or, worse, he would put Aimee in the books. Aimee didn't need to grow up as a character in a novel. Oh, gosh, Aimee as the literary version of that kid who was naked in the pool for Nirvana. It made her stomach churn. It wouldn't happen. She wouldn't let it.

Kate snatched her phone from the cup holder and tossed it at Rick who caught it safely.

She said, "Text Ryan. Tell him we're headed to the office to chat with the dad."

Rick did as told. The message was sent quickly and efficiently. When he finished, he set her phone back into the cup holder and asked, "Does the Crown Vic count as the precinct?"

"Yes."

"And all of the same rules apply?" he asked. At least he was checking to make sure he didn't overstep. That was kind of him.

"Yes," she said. Rick nodded quietly. He turned his attention out of the window and said nothing else. She was sort of proud of him for it too. Of course she knew that his silence only meant he would have plenty to say later.

#

Kate curled up in her bed in her apartment that night. Her mind spun with the details of the case and the close. Sara's best friend had killed her. The trend seemed to be that the person trusted with a life was the one to end it. Husbands, girlfriends, siblings, and the like battered and shot their loved ones on a daily basis. Pop and drops were different. Sure, they took their toll on her soul, but it was the cases like Sara's that made Kate think. Reflect. Feel.

Kate knew girls like Chloe. They got into awful relationships, and they stuck with them no matter what. If not for Chloe's homicidal nature, Chloe would still be in that four-way relationship. She would still be waiting for the day when she was the most important girl in his life. She would take him back. That was the one thing that made Kate like Chloe. If Royce popped up on Kate's doorstep, Kate would be that girl again. She knew. Kate would fight it, but she'd fail. She would get that same awestruck look in her eyes that she used to and clasp hands at the end of the joke and hold on until the only sound left was their breathing as one. Three years later and what did she have to show for her heartache? She still loved him.

Aimee clambered into bed beside Kate. Kate felt the words on the tip of her tongue. 'Go back to your own bed, Aimee. Big girls sleep in their beds.' But she didn't want Aimee to go. She wanted something comforting, someone who wasn't going to hit her over the head with a bleach bottle or stab her in an alley. She wrapped her arms around her little girl and pulled her in close.

Aimee giggled as she rolled into Kate. She mumbled, "You're making me dizzy."

"Oh yeah? How about I make you even more dizzy?" Kate asked her. Aimee shook her head violently. She protested through the laughter that was starting without even being touched. Possibly because she knew it was coming.

Kate attacked with a dance of fingertips across clothed flesh that had the toddler shrieking into the air. Aimee kicked and rolled in a small plot of the covers that seemed to be the perfect size to turn her into prey for the tickle monster. Aimee continued to protest with short nos and stops, but Kate didn't listen. Not until the inevitable scream of "I have to potty!" Kate relinquished her hold, knowing from past experience that it was better to be safe than sorry once bladders were involved.

Aimee smirked a grin so devilish that Kate wondered if the young girl practiced it. She only had a moment to think before Aimee jumped at her. The little Beckett's attack was much less methodical, but it had Kate squirming and laughing nonetheless. Their giggles mingled and drowned out the sound of noisy New York below.

After a bit, Kate caught Aimee's hands and pulled her daughter back to laying beside her. Their chests heaved as the laughter died down. Aimee cuddled into Kate's side and whispered, "I love you, Mommy."

Kate smiled wider despite her sore cheeks. This was her daughter. Her baby girl. She would do anything to keep Aimee safe from anyone who would harm her. Intentionally or not. No matter the cost.

"I love you too, chief."

#

_Ping!_

**YOU'RE HOME. I'M HOME. THE CASE IS DONE. CAN I ASK ABOUT IT YET? - RICK**

Rick hesitated with his thumb over the send button of the text message. He took a deep breath and pushed down. A small letter folded itself on the screen before rushing off into the air. His gaze followed the line it would take off of the LED screen and into the dim light of his office. He sighed.

On his desk, the picture of him and Alexis still sat. Their backs were to the camera, a symptom of Martha's love for the dramatic. The two of them were practically in silhouette. It was a beautiful picture of a father and his daughter, seeing the world in a way only the two of them could. It spoke volumes when he looked at it. It also didn't say enough.

The picture didn't tell him where Kate fit in to it all. He tried to imagine what she looked like as a child. He saw pigtails and a gap in her teeth that told stories of some fight at school where her last and final baby tooth wound up as collateral damage. He smiled when he thought those things. He just didn't understand how she went from the child in his mind to the woman who arrested him at his book launch party.

She was used to kids, if her knowing comment was anything to go by. She didn't have any siblings, so nieces and nephews were out of the question. The only one in the team with any kids was Captain Montgomery, who did not strike Rick as the type to drop off his kids with one of his subordinates on date night. Maybe the kid Kate knew was more personal. Not a one-time thing. Was it something to do with a child that brought her to where she was now? Could that be the something that damaged her? An innocent life that she couldn't save? More than one?

Gah, he needed to know. Not everything, just enough so that he stopped imagining these horrible scenes in his mind. Nikki was going to wind up witnessing a children's serial killer at this rate. He wasn't sure he or the character could handle that.

When his phone buzzed, he hesitated before looking. Would he push if she said no? Would he ask if she said yes? Did he _really_ want to know? The answer to all of the above matched hers –

**YES.**


	7. Sign and Discover

Kate watched Rick walk away with a sinking feeling in her throat. She rationalized it by saying that she just didn't want to have this conversation. She knew, though, that she was more anxious about the conversation ending in the same fashion. She squished her eyes closed and chanted to herself to breathe, to relax, to stop being such a ridiculous, paranoid woman. With a deep breath, Kate felt her ribs expand and her slight tremor dissipate. Damn, she had a lot of nerves. She needed a distraction. She surveyed the Cocoa Bean, cataloguing each of the nine other people in the local cafe. There was a family of three that was bundled up against the morning chill not too far from Kate. A college student with an obvious hangover nursed a large something-or-other in the far corner. A couple nestled into each other by the pick-up area. Two men fixed drinks behind the counter. Then, there was Castle.

Damnit. Her heart churned to a slow grind at the thought of him. She inhaled again. Calm, Kate. Calm. This was not the first time she chatted over coffee with him. Just because she was sharing bits of her life story did not mean that she needed to fall apart the second he turned his back. Fall apart at all. She didn't need to fall apart at all. She fiddled with the steady band of her mother's ring in her typical quest for guidance. Answers. Hope.

Gosh, she was ridiculous. She was dependent on a person that wasn't even available. That was Kate's big issue. She constantly focused on the unattainable goal so that she had somewhere to go yet she couldn't be faulted if she never reached it. That would be fine if it weren't for the way she latched on to every problem and refused to let go. Kate couldn't even remember all of the times Royce had to go up to her and physically stop her from working.

Oh but, there was this one time when she had been so close to cracking this case back when she was a uniform. Royce strolled in to the precinct, swiped everything off of the table she was working on, grabbed her keys, and just said, "Be outside in two minutes, or they go in the river, kid." Kate didn't talk to him for a week after that. After seven days of nothing, he cracked first. He showed up at her place with a mystery novel in his hand. He told Kate, "Slow down. These cases don't stop, ever. Don't keep racing towards a red light that's not coming. Eventually, you'll meet someone else on that same path and you'll crash. Hard. Figure out something that ends, kid." He offered her the book in his hand. She could have found an identical copy in the box of her mother's things that she had stashed away, but that didn't stop her from taking it. She devoured that book. Every one of Rick's after it too.

Rick's books were her yield sign, her yellow light. For some reason, their author was straight green. He drove her forward. Forward to the point where she was seated in her favorite coffee place at seven in the morning about to tell him things about her that she did not normally share. Rick had this power over her. He used it rarely, wisely, and it worked in his favor. It just drove Kate mad in the process.

Rick sat her cup of coffee down on the table in front of her. He offered an easy smile as he slid into the booth. His knees bumped against hers, and his eyes shot up so quickly that she wanted to grin. He was nervous too. That helped a bit. Kate thanked him and took a sip from the mug. The liquid burned, but it was better her tongue stung than her eyelids. So long as she didn't start crying in front of him, she was fine. What rules to live by.

Rick began, "So, we left off at the beginning of chapter four. Kate somehow goes from carefree college girl to the most stunning detective in the NYPD. How?"

Rick leaned forward slightly, probably even unconsciously. His question hung in the air. How? He wanted to know more than that. She knew from his text the night before that he was curious about a more specific topic. Kate wasn't going to push it. Actually, where they were gave her the perfect opportunity to stall the conversation Rick was working towards. Talking about her mother would buy Kate time. It was funny; Johanna Beckett had another rule of the universe, which stated that time erased everything but the root of the issue. The root here was fear. What would Castle do? What would Castle say? How would Kate feel about that? Well, she would never know if she didn't say something. Kate squeezed Johanna's ring tightly into her fist and met Rick's gaze.

She had an anxious, teasing grin on her face as she spoke. "You're starting to sound like a broken record, Castle. You asked me that before."

Rick grinned back at her. "It's your fault. You never gave me the real answer. I pushed too far, so you didn't tell me about the watch, or the ring, or..." His voice trailed. He was most likely trying to find the way to mention the toddler situation without seeming needy. She could help him, make him say it without actually saying it.

"Make a guess. Not a long-winded one this time. Make a simple guess, Castle, about what you think happened," she challenged. He gave her a hesitant sort of smile. Beneath it, though, she saw the excitement he felt for getting a second chance to play his game. He went for it.

"It was Colonel Mustard with the knife in the ballroom," Rick said good-naturedly. She sipped her drink in acknowledgment and gave him nothing else. He tried again, seriously this time. "You were never married, of that I'm sure. The ring isn't yours, but maybe your mother's?" He fished for something in his quick glance to her eyes, but he didn't wait to see what he would catch. He got this look in his eyes that was very similar to the one he had while reading aloud to the precinct. He was creating a story. It was sort of bewitching, but not enough to distract Kate from what he was saying. "My guess is that something happened to your parents. Something you don't talk about because you hate to appear vulnerable, even around people you know. It was serious, and you haven't been the same since."

Kate swallowed down the surge of anxiety that rose within her. She offered a tight grin. "Good guess, Castle. You were right about the ring. It was my mother's."

Kate paused there to make sure that he understood. He did. His eyes widened slightly and drifted down to where the morning sun glinted off of the blue stone. Still, he repeated the operative word.

"'Was?'"

Go time. Kate nodded. "Yeah. We were supposed to have dinner, just the three of us. My mom never showed, so we went home and there this was detective waiting for us. She'd been stabbed. The detective's team ruled it as a random wayward event."

"Was it?" Rick asked. Kate wondered for a moment if it was rhetorical. His face was pulled inward, almost as if he couldn't believe he had actually said that aloud. Kate shrugged.

"I don't think so," she said. And that was that. What more could she add that wouldn't make Rick, or herself, more curious? She was already convinced that her mother's death was more than gang violence. Nice lawyers did not just get stabbed in alleyways for no reason. Someone knew something. She just didn't know who. She didn't want to know who. Not then, at least. Her mother's case was a blackhole, sucking in everything and everyone until ultimately there was nothing left. Kate had to stay away. Kate promised to stay away. She couldn't let her family down again.

Across the table, Rick blinked almost calculatingly slow, which only served to make Kate's brain run faster. He couldn't want to solve the case that soon. He had to be thinking through a response to everything she had said. As far as Kate was concerned, there wasn't much of a point to planning out a speech. All of the thought in the world boiled down to a few choice responses. There were the consoling types, the fumbling types, the inquisitive types, and the worst of them all, the I've-Been-Theres.

I've-Been-There types compared the loss of her mother to all sorts of experiences. Never knowing a parent was not the same thing. Losing a pet was not the same thing. Most people of that type only said those things to build a sort of bridge that would allow her to safely stop depressing them with her own sadness. That was another reason why Kate was a cop. People were selfish. She was as well, but at least that meant that the families would have someone who was selfishly and selflessly going to push to give them a bit of the peace Kate never got.

Rick's hand brushed across the top of her intertwined ones. He tugged lightly and her left hand fell out to meet his own. He wrapped his palm around hers, but did not lift up, allowing her to pull away if she wanted to. Her skin burned under his and everywhere else as well. Kate's mind flashed back to the first time a boy had ever held her hand. Just like then, she wondered what to do with it. Kate looked to Rick for a clue and found herself lost. His eyes said it all.

_'I'm sorry you've gone through that. I don't know if anything I can do can help you, but I'll try.'_

Rick tried every day. He had done so with every question and theory for the last two cases, and with the drinks and off-duty text messages. He tried and succeeded. She wanted to tell as much but found that she couldn't. She hoped her eyes were speaking back to him. They were so much more honest than her voice could ever be. Her voice would say that she was fine and that he could take his soft, warm hands and go write about her shoving them somewhere unpleasant. Her eyes said that healing was a process and every day was a new one, even if it didn't feel like it. She was better than she used to be and almost as good as she will be. Rick helped just by being around. He had saved her before and she had no doubt that he would again.

Kate wasn't sure if her eyes said all of that, so she flipped her hand over and squeezed. He ran his thumb along the length of hers slowly in reply. In thanks. She grinned.

"I couldn't imagine what that must have been like. But that's why I'm here, Kate. I want to understand this world that you're in. You are one of the most complex women that I have ever had the pleasure to meet, the other being my mother for a whole slew of reasons I will not get into. We'll figure everything out together. You look at their deaths, and I look at their lives, and we'll fix the world, one closed case at a time."

That sounded wonderful. "Good idea, Castle."

He perked at her praise. He said, "What can I say? I have great inspiration." Meaning Kate? "Meaning you. I'm honored, Kate, that you would share this with me."

She would share it all. Damnit, no, Kate. Thoughts like that were outlawed. She did not need to dig herself an even bigger grave. Rick Castle would already be the death of her. Of that she was sure.

Kate nodded a sort of thanks and grabbed her cup with her right hand. She let the liquid quell some of the immense bubbling within her. She needed to remain focused. There was more to the coffee outing than her deepest, darkest secrets. A lot more.

She said, "It's not a problem. But, if anything too personal winds up on page nineteen of the next New York Times best seller-"

Rick cut her off, quickly. "You really think we'll be a best seller?"

Obviously. The entire Derrick Storm series was on that list, along with half a dozen other novels he wrote. The man had a way with words that stunned minds into submission and pulled people in. Even if the book was his worst yet, it would be a best seller for a little while. That thought just brought her back to her point.

"Yeah, Castle. I know we talked before about you not putting any specific case details or inner-workings of the precinct into the book, but there are things about me that don't need to be in the books either. Your character might need a backstory, but she doesn't need my exact one," Kate said.

Rick nodded. "Of course, Kate. I was actually leaning towards a hooker-by-day cop-by-night angle, just to spice things up."

Kate stared at him long and hard. He was joking, right? He had to be joking.

Rick cracked a smile. Kate found that her sigh of relief sounded a bit like a laugh. He joined in until their sides started to hurt from the laughter. As they calmed, Rick's grip on Kate's hand tightened. She brought her gaze to him and saw him through the blurred tears of mirth. The intensity on his face chilled her. Fun time was over. The fun times were always too short. Rick opened his mouth to speak.

"Kate-"

_PING!_

Kate's eyes flew down to her phone. In her peripherals, she saw Rick's face fall slightly. She pretended not to notice. Her phone was next to her cooling coffee cup. A soft, blue light and the number one shone up from the screen enticingly, waiting impatiently for her attention. She sighed. Her hand enclosed around it and she flipped the phone open. The message popped onto the screen and filled Kate with a quick sense of dread.

**WHERE ARE YOU?**

Shit. Lanie. Shit. Lanie and Kate were supposed to have a girls' day that day. She had promised movies, manicures, and lunch out on the town. Instead, Kate was drinking with Rick. Shit. She had to go.

"Dead body?" Rick asked with a forced sense of casualness. He swirled his cup of coffee in his hand and took a small sip. It was about as subtle as Rick got.

"Something like that," answered Kate. She was the dead one in this situation if she didn't get to Lanie soon. "We'll have to continue this some other time."

Kate started to move but he moved the hand holding hers to anchor her for a moment. He said, "Only if you want to, Kate. You're not required to tell me anything."

She knew that. "I want to, Castle."

He grinned. She gave one back before pulling her hand from his grasp. She took that hand and picked up her coffee cup. Just as she expected, the cup did not warm her nearly as much as he did. She kept the cup though as she slid out of the booth. He trailed behind her in much the same fashion. As they stood, Kate found herself looking up into his face. She could feel the heat wafting off of his cup, slightly out of reach. They were close, but not enough. Not enough for either of them. Rick stepped forward and leaned in softly. His lips brushed against the skin of her cheek simultaneously heating up her blood and leaving Kate frozen.

"Until next time, Detective," he said in parting.

She fought the burn on her skin, but not the smile that took over her face. She promised, "Tomorrow."

He nodded his affirmation and headed from the small coffee shop. Kate's phone went off a second time. She typed back **ON THE WAY. WILL EXPLAIN**. Her phone pinged within seconds of sending the message.

 **YOU BETTER.** Kate sighed. She was in for a long afternoon.

_#_

"I still can't believe you told him about your mom," Lanie said with a flop of her hands to the couch beneath her. Her toes wiggled on the foot rest, freshly painted turquoise gleaming like the metaphoric light bulb above Lanie's head. Kate waited before speaking. Lanie had a way of going on and on once she learned new information. Two weeks worth of secret drinks and text messages definitely fell into that category.

Lanie's face drew downward into a slight pout. She continued, "You never told me. I found out because I saw the files under your pillow." Kate smiled at the memory. Lanie had been helping Kate get ready for a precinct party. While the then-uniform flipped through clothes, Lanie found the stolen files stuffed beneath one of Kate's pillows. Neighbors called in complaints because of all the yelling that ensued. Thank goodness Lanie had mellowed over the years.

Kate said, "I told him about my mom to avoid talking about Aimee."

Lanie shook her head. "No, you told him because you like him."

The protest was out of Kate's mouth before either of them could even blink. "I don't." She didn't, not that much. It wasn't possible.

Lanie scoffed. "Don't you lie to me, Kate Beckett. I've seen you at some of your lowest points and you couldn't fool me then. Your daily drinks, your little chat sessions, your cases, and the shadowing - girl, you like this guy. And, if you're telling him stuff this serious, it's more than just the physical."

"That's crazy," insisted Kate. "I'll admit that Castle's somewhat attractive-"

"Ruggedly handsome, drop your panties hot is more accurate," Lanie said.

Kate glared and continued. "-But that has nothing to do with him following me. This will be good press for the force and a great opportunity for the boys to see that they're not the supreme rulers of the universe. No matter what they might tell themselves."

Lanie leaned forward on the couch and her eyes widened as she tried to get her point across. She wiggled her toes straight onto the floor, creating a sort of sumo wrestler position that would have been comical if Kate allowed it to be. Mostly, Kate tried to convince herself that her attraction towards Castle did not mean enough to be the subject of their conversation.

"Writer Boy is not around to knock Ryan and Esposito down a peg. I'll knock you if you keep saying that. Kate, you don't open up to people. This means something. You can try downplaying it all you want, but I'm not buying it."

Kate made sure to connect gazes because she needed Lanie to believe her. Someone other than Kate needed to understand that a relationship between her and Rick would end badly. Goodness, she felt like she was in the interrogation room with a suspect that simply did not hear the deal she was offering. Listen, Lanie.

"There's nothing to buy. Just let it go. Let's talk about something else." Kate meant it as the final word on the subject. Case closed. Take it or head home. Lanie saw it as such.

"Fine," Lanie grumbled. Kate smiled in victory. She leaned back into the sofa chair she sat on and fanned her own toes. She relished the peace until Lanie spoke up again. Lanie asked, "Aimee doin' good?"

Kate groaned. The woman was relentless. Kate wondered what Lanie's angle was that time. More importantly, how could she steer clear of whatever trap was being built? She could simply ignore the medical examiner. No, avoiding eye contact showed weakness. This was Kate's home and she was in charge, and she would be damned if she let this talk unnerve her enough to back down.

"Aimee's great," Kate said.

Lanie took in the information with a nod. She agreed, "Of course she is. That girl is just a bottle of sunshine. She's trusting, friendly, and bright as day - unlike you. She does real great with people. Bet she would love to meet Writer Boy."

Kate shook her head in a sort of disbelief. That was Lanie's angle? It wouldn't work. Just because Aimee would like getting a puppy didn't mean Kate went out and bought one. Loophole found.

"No, Lanie, they're not meeting," Kate said.

Lanie's satisfied face fell into an exaggerated, petulant pout. "Why not? She won't do anything wrong. You have managed to raise an absolute angel. Don't know how since you're whacked in the head, but you did. Plus, you've seen Castle's; it's only fair he gets to see yours."

Kate rolled her eyes. "Maybe _you_ should date Castle. You both make the same arguments."

Lanie smirked. Kate froze. What? What did she say.

Lanie pointed out, "I never said a thing about dating him." Shit. Didn't Lanie - no, she only talked about him meeting Aimee. Shit.

Kate forced her face to remain neutral even in the light of Lanie's pride. She said, "But you were going to."

"Of course I was. He is just right for you. You're a perfectionist, and he's a wild child. It's the stuff novels are made of, Kate."

Rick's novels. Even though Kate's life was about to become one, she was not actually living in a story. Her perfect guy did not just walk into her life on the job and stick around by wedging himself into the picture.

"Fictional novels. Lanie, I've known him for two weeks."

"And?" asked Lanie sassily. She fixed Kate with the same look she gave uniforms who got too close to the body at a crime scene. The look had the same effect on Kate as it did with them.

Kate opened her mouth and shut it back. She heavily weighed her next move, knowing that the medical examiner's southern roots could and would come out to play if Kate said the wrong thing.

Lanie's implications were ridiculous. Kate was in the right here. Two weeks was not enough time to feel anything other than lust and curiosity. It took three years for Kate's parents to even begin to fall in love. They were a love story at its finest. Kate wanted a story like theirs, sans the ending. She'd had it planned out since childhood.

Kate was supposed to grow up to be a lawyer in a swanky apartment close to her parents simply because she couldn't stay away from them for too long. Despite the glamorous beach house and other vacation spots, she was going to meet Mr. Right at some mundane place like the store or the gym. Nothing would happen for a while until, one day, everything did. From there, they would date and her father would walk her down the aisle at their classic wedding at the Plaza. In the middle of her first night being married, she would call her mom and Johanna would tell her how proud she was and how Kate better go back to sleep so that she could have fun with the man next to her for the rest of her life. That was supposed to be Kate's love story. That was supposed to be Kate's future.

Instead, she was friends with the most amazing guy who she couldn't even bring herself to admit was absolutely perfect. She could hardly get herself to do anything. She couldn't even tell him she had a daughter. She didn't want to, not without knowing how Rick would react. Just because he had a daughter didn't mean he wanted another one. Not that she wanted him to be Aimee's father. Aimee had a father, never mind the fact that neither of the two knew of the other. Then again, Kate's voicemail a few years back had practically begged for Royce's attention and he never so much as called her back. Royce didn't care. Kate shouldn't care. She shouldn't _have_ to care. She was twenty-eight. Why should she have to worry about all of the hearts of so many people? Aimee's, Royce's, Rick's... Rick was Kate's undoing. Two weeks in and already she just wanted it all. She wanted the chance at the beach house again. But, she wasn't a beach house girl anymore. She couldn't be.

Kate leveled her withering, wistful gaze at Lanie's. After only a second of contact, Lanie became resigned. Some of the determination left her shoulders with a dejected breath. Kate would have grinned at the victory had it not been accompanied by such unsettling thoughts.

"It's not going to happen, Lanie, no matter who wants it to." Including Kate herself.

_#_

"Katie? You there?"

Kate's gaze snapped to the phone in her hand. Oh, right, she was on the phone. She shook her head softly to erase the day with Lanie from her mind. It had been hours, and Kate still felt the dark cloud her resolve had brought in. She was ruining things for herself again. She was cutting off even the possibility of a relationship before there was any proof that it would fail. She was - trying to talk herself out of it yet again. She had to stop that. Focus. Talk on the phone. Forget about Rick.

"Yeah, Dad. Sorry. My brain's everywhere," said Kate. She didn't even have to think about the excuse for checking out. She did it often enough. She normally only spent half of the conversation with her dad actually talking to him.

"Tough case?" Jim asked. Kate could hear the concern in his voice. Guilt pooled in her gut, joining the ambivalence and frustration.

Kate barely recognized her voice when she spoke. It sounded the way it did when she was little and was constantly vying for her dad's approval. Every time she received it for one thing, she had another thing lined up for him to see. She said, "We just solved it yesterday."

He took it all, as per usual. "That's great, Katie. So, what's on your mind? Why'd you call?"

Why? She needed someone in her corner; that's why. She was right not to pursue Rick. He was writing about her. He wasn't falling for her the way she was falling for him. Not that she was. She was borderline infatuated. Crushing. Jim deserved to know about the novel before it hit the shelves. Jim wouldn't care so much about the idea of the book, but he would care about Johanna being mentioned, or whoever the fictional Kate's mother turned out to be.

"Do you talk about Mom?" blurted Kate. She heard Jim take in a breath instantly. His silence followed. It wasn't the comfortable kind of silence. It was the one she knew well from the post-Johanna years. They both used it. Back when Jim had been drinking, Kate used to go quiet and play entire conversations in her head in advance to ensure that she didn't say anything that could trigger him. Jim was looking for triggers. She wanted to assure him that she was fine and it was unnecessary. Somehow, she felt like that might be a lie.

Jim answered lightly, "Not often. I don't really find a place for her in too many conversations. Jo never had a normal spot. She just took part of it, you know?"

Kate did. Part of what made Johanna Beckett such a great lawyer was knowing what to say and when to say it, even if that meant talking over someone else. Johanna was a force to be reckoned with out there. Everywhere really.

Kate let that happy thought lift her voice up a bit. She told Jim, "I talked about her today. It wasn't for long, and it wasn't the good stuff, but I wasn't sifting through files for conspiracies either."

That time, Jim truly sounded every bit as proud of her as he did for spelling bees. "I'm really glad, Katie. Was it with your team?"

No. Well... "Yes and no." Kate paused. This was the perfect moment to bring in the book. "He's part of the team for now. He's shadowing me."

"You mean that author you like? You told him?"

Kate's eyes widened. How in the hell... "You know about Castle?"

"I read," Jim said. "Plus, Paul told me all about what he was hearing on the gossip sites."

Kate grimaced. Gossip sites bought in to those pieces about Castle, playboy millionaire author with a string of women as long as twelve novels. She could only imagine what they were saying now.

Kate was quick to defend Rick. "He's different than what the sites make him out to be. He's useful, for one. He helped more than I expected he could in these last two weeks. We're almost... partners." The word felt oddly fitting, as if it said it all yet not enough.

Jim repeated her, almost incredulously. "Partners? Did you tell him about Aimee yet?"

"No." Jim sighed. Kate sighed in return. She reasoned, "He's writing a character based on me, Dad. I don't know want that to come back to hurt her. I'm not sure exactly what to read from him. Maybe once I know more about him..."

"Haven't you been reading his fan sites for years?"

Kate flushed. "That's different. This is actually knowing him."

"And from what you know, does he seem trustworthy?" Jim asked.

Kate stopped herself from sighing a second time. So much for finding someone on her side. Everyone was against her in this. No one understood her hesitance. She was justified in not wanting Rick to know just yet. She was. Wasn't she?

"Yes."

Kate could practically see Jim nodding the way he did when he was right. He was probably grinning as well. He said, "And you've got some sort of agreement to make sure that he doesn't use anything too personal or real in his book, right?" Kate didn't even bother answering that time. They both knew the answer. "So I see no reason not to let him know. You won't let him hurt her. I know Javier and Kevin would gladly go to jail to protect you two. There's no reason to hide her, Katie... Unless you're ashamed of-"

"Dad!" Kate was positively livid. Her face burned for a whole different reason. "I am not ashamed -" She glanced quickly to the closed bedroom door that blocked Aimee from the conversation."-ashamed of Aimee. How could you even say tha-"

"Katie, hey, I know," said Jim calmly. "I just wanted to make sure you know. Don't miss out on sharing who you are. Being a mom is part of that."

It was. Aimee was part of the reason Kate was the cop that she was. Yes, she wanted to help the victim's families get closure. She also wanted to keep even a few of the murderers off of the streets. All of them preferably, but new ones popped up every minute. People pushed to the brink. People in bad situations. People off their meds. More than anything else, Kate wanted to protect Aimee from what she could do.

Kate had a way of ruining people. She expected too much of them while never asking for enough. She required people to learn to work with and under her without ever informing them of how that was accomplished painlessly. She had seen many people fail to understand her and back away. The least gallant of the people tended to be her boyfriends. They got confused and pulled for her as she pulled away. The result always left the guys in a much worse state than Kate was. She left them in bad condition, and none of them even loved her. Aimee loved her. Sometimes, Kate looked at Aimee and saw herself at that age. She did not want Aimee to grow up to be her. She had already put Aimee in her position once. She could not allow it to happen again. If Kate was being honest, Rick was probably a great person to stop her from slipping down the rabbit hole. If he stuck around that was.

"You're right, Dad. I'll actually go do that part right now."

Kate stood from the chair and walked across the hall, her toes padding across the carpet as she headed for their bedroom. Inside, Aimee giggled on her bed. She had a video ipod in her hands, no doubt watching an episode of one of her favorite cartoons. The white headphones in her tiny ears blocked the majority of the outside noise from reaching her. Kate took the moment of anonymity to lean against the door frame.

Jim said, "Alright. I'll talk to you later. Tell Aimee I love her."

"I will," Kate promised. "Night, Dad."

"Night, Katie."

Kate clicked off the line. She dropped the phone off on her bed as she approached Aimee. The little girl lay on her stomach with her feet kicking softly to the rhythm of the show. Her gaze was glued to the screen. As Kate drew closer, she saw that the show was _Dora the Explorer_. She should have known from Aimee's light whispers. Aimee answered every Dora question.

Kate reached over and removed one earbud from Aimee's ear. The sound of the talking map filled the air. Aimee turned and held out the device for Kate to see the screen too.

Aimee told Kate, "Dora is trying to help the turtle."

"Has she gone through the deep sand yet?" Kate asked. Aimee shook her head no. "Good, then we have time. Pause it."

Aimee did as told. She hit the button at the bottom of the wheel and watched a moment to make sure that the action went through. Once certain that Swiper would get no closer, the younger Beckett removed the other earbud and set it on the mattress.

Aimee asked, "Is Papa coming here to see me?"

"Not for another week, you know that." Aimee frowned. Her small features pulled inward elongating and exaggerating her sadness. Kate figured then would be as good a time as any. She scooted in towards Aimee, met her brown eyes, and said, "But, you can meet one of Mommy's new friends soon if you want."

Aimee perked up. "A boy friend or girl friend?"

"He's a boy," Kate said.

"Is he pretty?" asked Aimee with a giggle. Kate thought instantly of Lanie's description from earlier.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean we like him more," Kate said.

"Yuh huh. You only let me meet the pretty boys. Like Will. You thought him was really pretty. Then he left us. Is your new friend gonna leave us?" Aimee asked.

What did Kate say to that? She had no idea. He might. He might run for the hills at the first sign that Kate wasn't some damsel with a badge waiting to be saved by him and his pen. But Kate - or some rational part of her that was buried deep down - didn't think he would. Besides, he would not be around in the same way that Will was.

Kate leveled her gaze with Aimee. "I don't know. He's not the same kind of friend as Will though."

"Okay. What's his name?"

"Castle."

For the second time, Aimee's face scrunched in. It often did when people laughed at her, or when she didn't get the joke. As per usual, the face was accompanied by a crossing of her tiny arms and a jutting of her head forward as if being closer meant that the punchline would just seep into her brain.

"A castle is a house. You can't be friends with a house. What's his name?" Aimee asked again. Kate grinned.

"Castle. Rick Castle."

Aimee threw her hands into the air and flopped back onto the mattress. Her dramatic tendencies made Kate think of Esposito whose penchant for hefty sighs and deep glares was obviously contagious. Aimee sat up again and put her hands on Kate's shoulders. She shook the larger woman, stating, "You're lying, Mommy." Kate shook her head. She wasn't. Aimee said, "Then show me a picture."

What? Kate gave Aimee a look that clearly asked if the young girl was serious. Aimee was. She even tapped her foot impatiently to prove it. That action was all Lanie. Kate probably should have thought about getting babysitters with less obvious mannerisms. First, she had to get a picture.

Kate rose from the bed. She walked over to her bedside table and opened the top drawer. The first thing to greet her was the advanced copy of Storm Fall. She picked it up and flipped to the back. The same picture of Rick that had been on the last few novels smirked up at her. It was flattering enough, but different from the Rick she saw every day. Her Rick almost seemed less put together, especially on that first case when he had scruff covering his chin and one show missing in that damn alley.

"Stop smiling," ordered Aimee from her bed. Kate quickly drew her face into a frown. She had been smiling? Good thing Lanie wasn't around because she would never have let Kate live that down.

Kate crossed back to Aimee and sat down on the bed. The toddler grabbed for the book and stared at Rick's picture. Aimee studied the picture with a tilt in her head. She flipped the book over to look at the cover and then returned to the back. Slowly, she nodded and turned to Kate.

"I like him. When is he coming over?"

Kate froze. "Um..." _When I tell him you exist_ , Kate added mentally. "One day, maybe. I just didn't want you to be surprised."

"I like surprises, Mommy," Aimee said. Kate looked at the book in her daughter's hand. Rick was reading from that very book right that second. He was closing a chapter in his life, and she had barely even turned the page in the next one. Kate leaned back to grab the phone off of her bed. She had to call Lanie. She was going to go to that signing.

_#_

Kate entered the reading mid-phrase on a wave of Rick's voice. His smooth tone carried words that elicited tears from the eyes of at least half of the crowd. The main room of the bookstore was filled with middle-aged women in their best pseudo-casual ensembles. Some of them looked spectacular, but none were as gorgeous as Kate. Rick could hardly take his eyes off of her once he glanced up from the page. She felt them burning into the bare skin of her shoulders and down the slope of her legs. Her face flushed as a few curious women turned to see who had taken the author's attention. At their looks, Kate slinked a bit further into the background.

She pulled herself away from Rick's reading. She wasn't there for that. She was there to talk to him once it was done. Until then, she perused the nearby bookshelves. His reading was taking place in the mystery section. Titles she recognized from her own stash at home lined the top shelf. She spotted Patterson's latest novel. She had been halfway through when Rick gave her Storm Fall. Maybe she could get a bit further now. She grabbed a copy and flipped through until she found the page that she left off on. Before she knew it, there was a hand tapping away on her shoulder.

Rick stood in front of her, amusement dancing across his face. Fans milled in the background on their way to the line for the signing. Kate looked around confusedly. It was over? She reached behind her to put the book back on the shelf. As she focused again on Rick, she noticed that he was nowhere near as close as he had been over the past few days. Great. He was pulling away. He was still within arm's reach however so she told herself to forget about it. He seemed to.

Rick flashed Kate one of his charming smirks. "How'd you like the reading?" Of course he was mocking her. Fine, if he wanted to play, she could as well. Kate shrugged.

"It was fine. I just prefer reading your book myself, at home, in the tub." Rick blanked. Kate smiled. "Goodness, Castle, you're so easy."

Rick recovered with "Only for you." It was meant to be just as playful as her comment, yet the way he said it and the sincerity in his eyes... Kate pushed at a stand of her hair anxiously. She had to stop reacting to statements like that. She was not in a good place to have a relationship. She didn't even want a relationship.

Rick cleared his throat to break the silence. He glanced around and his blue eyes darkened. A low groan escaped his lips. Curiously, Kate turned to see who had had such a reaction on Rick. Her eyes froze on the thin legs and large blonde hair. If Kate wasn't such a closeted Castle super fan, she would have had to ask who this woman was. But Kate was, and Kate knew. The image of typical perfection stalking towards them was Gina Cowell, publisher and recent ex-wife of one Richard Castle.

"Gina," grumbled Rick almost predatorily.

"Rick," Gina said in much the same manner. The two stared between themselves as if waiting for the other to burst into stone at the pure rage and muted hatred residing in the looks.

Just as quickly as the match began, it ended. Rick's gaze returned to Kate. He stepped in closer and his hand found the small of her back to push her closer to the blonde demon. Kate took it in stride and moved forward to meet her. After all, Kate was the youngest woman to make detective. An ex-wife didn't scare her.

Rick extended the hand that wasn't holding Kate into the air in a conversational way.

He said, "Kate, this is my publisher/slavedriver, Gina. Gina, this is the inspiration for my new character, Kate Beckett."

Gina stared Kate down. The look she had given Rick was nothing compared to the sweltering, damning glare she had for Kate. Kate returned it with full force. Call Kate petty, but she wanted to prove her dominance over Gina. Damn, why didn't she bring her badge? That would have frozen the bitch in her tracks.

Wait, bitch? Calm down, Kate. Wow. Jealousy reared its ugly head. Misplaced jealousy. Kate told herself again that she and Rick were not in a relationship. Immediately after, that same petty part of Kate reminded her that neither were Rick and Gina.

With that in mind, Kate held her hand out to the other woman. "It's a pleasure."

Gina gave the hand a subtle sneer of a smile before shaking quickly. Kate had the urge to get her hand wiped down by CSU. She smiled politely nevertheless.

"It's all mine, Miss Beckett," said Gina.

Both Kate and Rick corrected her. "Detective Beckett."

Gina nodded shortly. "Well, Detective, I'm sure you understand just how important it is that Ricky stay focused on his fans tonight. You won't mind if I whisk him away, will you?"

Yes. Kate ground her nails into her palm. This woman was a pain in the ass. 'Ricky.' Rick was a grown man, not a child who was being bad. Anyway, Kate was a fan. She wanted her time with the author too. Especially if it kept him out of Gina's grubby, perfectly manicured claws.

"Of course I don't."

Gina grinned. She motioned towards a table a bit away that had quite the line forming. Minus the first person who was male, the line of fans consisted of females with wild eyes and tight grips on their soon-to-be-signed copy of the novel. Vultures. Rick released his hold on Kate and followed behind Gina without argument. Kate could only imagine what the relationship between Rick and Gina must have been like. Gina probably made him do everything on a schedule.

Even as they walked away, Gina's voice carried back to where Kate was standing.

Gina said, "I don't mean anything by it, but I expected more with the way you raved about her in that scene you sent me."

Oh, goodness, what scene? The bathtub scene? If that was what raving was, well, no wonder their relationship was doomed.

Rick said, "Retract your claws, Gina. Someone might think you're jealous."

"I have no time to be. I only just finished drying off from the drool dripping off of your writing sample," retorted Gina. Rick spun around in a stop before they reached the table.

"Whatever you're plotting in that evil mind of yours needs to stop. I don't want you talking to Kate. She's not one of the others, Gina. All I want is to convey her correctly." Rick's eyes met Kate's. She flushed slightly at being caught, but his words only worsened it. "This character is strong, smart, hauntingly beautiful... and just a little bit slutty."

Really, Rick? Gina scoffed. For once, Kate agreed with her.

"A little?" Gina repeated. "Come on, Rick. You named her Nikki Heat."

"He what?" Kate said. Gina turned towards Kate, pure glee on her face at this discovery. Kate was the last one to know. Damnit, she hated being the last one to know.

"Rick didn't tell you? The name of your hauntingly beautiful alter ego is Nikki Heat."

Kate flared in indignation. That was a name for a stripper, not a detective. He obviously wasn't kidding when he talked about the hooker-by-day angle. How was Kate supposed to show her face in the precinct while her alter ego was plucked straight out of a _Cops Gone Wild_ video?

Kate grumbled, "Castle." He hurried to the table as if the many fans would stop her anger from progressing. If anything, it worsened. He knew she would hate that name. He knew her enough to figure out bits and pieces of her backstory. He could figure out that something that idiotic and ridiculous would drive her up the wall. He was dead. Dead. She stomped after him, cutting in front of the male fan without a second glance.

Rick put his hands up in defeat. "Don't be mad."

"Mad? I'm furious. That name is a joke, Castle. You can't call me Nikki Heat," Kate said.

"In my defense, technically, it's not you," Rick tried. Kate's glared deepened. Rick turned to the fan then and said, "Picture these titles, my next masterpiece. Summer Heat. Heat Wave."

"In Heat," offered the fan. Rick nodded eagerly. Kate crossed her arms. It went without saying her opinion of the last one.

"Change it," she demanded. She didn't care if that was going to throw off the whole damn project. That name was awful.

Rick looked to Gina for help. The blonde averted her gaze to examining her clipboard. Good. Kate didn't need another reason to hate the woman. Rick went back to the fan.

"What do you think?" Rick asked him.

The fan seemed to consider the question. Again, Kate fought the urge to glare at a person she hardly knew.

"I think it shows promise," said the fan.

Rick beamed. Kate fumed and moved away. What did that guy know? Nothing. He didn't know how much crap Kate was already getting for having a civilian tag-along. Ryan and Esposito were just the tip of the iceberg there. She would have to put up with jokes and tequila pistols while Rick got to continue signing the books and boobs of girls young enough to be his daughter. Honestly, wasn't there an age limit on this thing?

"Careful. You're starting to look jealous." Gina smirked at the end of her sentence. Kate whipped around to fully face the other woman. She was no longer in the mood for this.

Kate said, "I would have to care to be jealous." She gave another look to Castle and his new fan, a barely legal brunette with hungry eyes. Ugh. Kate walked away.

Gina followed. "Don't get too attached," warned Gina. Kate paused, which seemed to be enough of a reaction to get the publisher speaking again. "Rick keeps his muses until he's gotten all he can out of them, literally and physically. The second you spread your legs, the heat will be gone. No matter what Rick promises you."

Kate swallowed roughly. Gina was lying. She had to be. She was jealous and lying. It didn't matter because Kate and Rick were not going to do anything. Rick was not going to disappear. He wasn't. Kate knew that. Yet, if she knew that, why did she walk like hell to get out of there?

The door to the bathroom closing jarred Kate out of her panic-induced stupor. Four glistening white stalls entered her vision. She was a coward. She crossed to the sink and flipped the knobs. Water rushed down, the temperature a mix between hot and cold, like Kate's feelings for Rick. She flipped the knobs a second time. The water stopped. If only Kate's feelings went with it.

When it came to Rick, Kate was a broken record stuck between the same notes of confusion and debate. She had broken out a bit by telling him about Aimee, but she still wound up doubting it all after one comment from Gina. Kate was screwed. They were screwed.

"Detective Beckett?"

Kate peered into the restroom mirror. Frozen, by the door to a stall, stood Alexis Castle. The sight of her made Kate freeze as well. She could count on one hand the number of times that she had interacted with Rick's daughter and still have fingers left over. The girl seemed fine, but she was not a person that Kate could necessarily see herself bonding in the bathroom with. Still, Kate made herself grin at the girl.

"Hello, Alexis. Did you like the reading?"

Alexis shrugged as she made her way to the sinks. There were three. Alexis went to the far one rather than the one closer to Kate. Maybe bathroom bonding wasn't on Alexis's mind either.

"I've heard him read it before. He reads me scenes when he finishes them, or I read them myself," Alexis said.

Hmm, how predictable yet curious. It warmed Kate's heart to imagine it. It also made her smile as she thought of Rick reading chapter four aloud at bedtime. Like that would happen. Even Rick Castle wasn't unorthodox enough to read a sex scene to his child. Beyond the books, he was just a regular parent with a regular kid. While his kid was much older than hers, Kate figured some basic things never changed. One of which being that the child never had that much fun at the parent's gatherings.

"You must be bored out of your wits then," said Kate. Alexis's eyes shot up. The look in them was one of shock as if no one had ever put that together before. Kate wasn't sure if she had offended the girl or merely surprised her.

"I - um - well, yeah, a bit," Alexis admitted. "I mostly come to these things to make sure my Grams doesn't drive Dad up the wall. I'm actually shocked she hasn't hunted you down yet."

Kate shrugged. "I'm a cop. Tracking me isn't easy."

Alexis grinned and said, "You'll learn that we Castles do not give up easily. I know it might seem that way with the two failed marriages and the hole in Derrick's skull, but Dad fights for what he wants."

Like Kate? No. Kate did not need to go there. She needed a tamer subject. What else could she relate this to?

"He's not going to change the name from Nikki Heat, is he?"

Alexis took the topic change without pause. She shook her orange hair with a grin.

"Nope. But, if it means anything, it's a great name. In one of Dad's name books, it says Nikki means 'victorious.' He thinks she'll win, Detective, right from the beginning."

Rick really believed in Kate, didn't he? He put so much faith into her when he knew so little about who Kate was. If Rick was going to put Kate to paper, he needed to know all of Kate. No more hiding. No more fighting it.

Kate's voice had a light sense of urgency when she asked, "Alexis, can you deliver a message to your dad for me?"

Alexis hesitated before nodding. "Sure thing, Detective Beckett."

Kate reached in her purse and pulled out a pen. She grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and quickly penned out her request. When finished, she capped the pen and handed the note to Alexis. The red-haired teen scanned the page.

Confusedly, she read, "'Meet me at the coffee shop. We're not done talking.'"

Kate gave the girl a soft smile. "Your dad will understand. Thanks again, Alexis. It was nice talking to you."

"You too."

_#_

In a reverse of that morning, Kate had gotten coffee for the both of them. She sat in the same booth and stared at the plush blue back of what would be Rick's side. She could almost picture him, leaning back into the material and molding into the softness. He went with the flow of things. He didn't fight them. That needed to hold true.

Small streams of steam billowed from the slits in the coffee lids. Kate wondered if Rick would react in a similar way to her news. If he did, where did that leave her? Everyone at the precinct would forever refer to her as Richard Castle's failed muse. Oh, goodness, she just called herself a muse. What was wrong with her?

Kate gripped her cup with tense fingers. She forced herself to breathe normally. Nothing bad was going to happen. She wouldn't be banned from the fan sites, or be attacked by crazy fans. She needed to leave the wild theory building to Rick and stick with what she did best. Hard facts.

Fact: Richard Castle had a daughter of his own and was obviously not adverse to their existence.

Fact: Castle liked Kate. She didn't know how much or if it had passed the area of initial interest into genuine feelings, but she knew he liked her on some level.

Fact: Castle did not give up. When his publicist was breathing down his neck for a manuscript he didn't have, he kept writing. When his first ex-wife left him to go be an actress in L.A., he raised one hell of a daughter on his own. When Kate handcuffed him to a steering wheel, he undid the cuffs and chased after their suspect. Castle was not a man to break under pressure. He would handle this.

"Hello, Detective."

Kate, on the other hand, might not. She watched Rick slide in to the booth opposite of her. He saw the steaming cup and searched her eyes for some sort of explanation. When she offered none, he grinned and accepted it. Just like that. Silently, Kate reached into her coat pocket. Despite having done the action repeatedly for the last hour, Kate stabbed her hand on the sharp corner of the picture. She sucked in a deep breath to steady herself and pulled out the wallet-sized shot. She laid it on the table face down and paused. Aimee's name was written on the white side in Sharpie, crisply and done to perfection as all of Kate's things had to be. She read the words once, twice, three times. _Aimee Cathleen Beckett - age 2_. Kate exhaled slowly. Now or never. She found Rick's curious gaze and hoped that it would be as trusting and interested in a few minutes. Kate pushed the picture across the table.

Rick stared down at the small rectangle apprehensively. He hesitated. The action itself asked her for permission. She nodded shortly to give it. His right hand went out and took the corner. He flipped it over and stopped. Froze. Flinched. Kate brought her gaze down to the picture. Had she chosen the wrong one? In it, Aimee was dressed up in Kate's formal uniform, complete with the cap and gloves. Kate had assumed that the outfit would make Rick understand instantly who the child was and accept her. Kate assumed wrong.

Rick's index finger trailed the curve of Aimee's cheek. His eyes never strayed, even when his voice croaked out a small, "Who...?" The sound was broken, hurt. Kate had done that. Her omission and ridiculousness had hurt him, and she hadn't even considered the fact that it could actually wound him not to know. Deeper than out of pride, there was the mutual sense of comfort that she had destroyed. She'd waited too long. Fuck.

She tried to make eye contact, but he still wouldn't look away. She fought with the neediness that clawed at her and called for his attention. She spoke, and the vulnerability there was something that she would deny for a long time to come.

"Her name's Aimee. And... she's my daughter."

Finally, his eyes met hers.


	8. A Calm Goes Through Her Veins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes the case from "A Chill Goes Through Her Veins"

"Rick, I..." Kate stilled. She what? She had nothing to say about the situation. She could explain that the whole thing was obviously before his time, but there wasn't much of a point to that. He looked to be in mourning. Good bye to his new character and next chance at the best seller list. Hello to disappointment. Kate was constantly a disappointment. She let people down. She took on every expectation and goal that someone had for her, only to never achieve them. What was wrong with her?

Rick's grip on the photo tightened. The corners poked into the flesh of his hands, but he ignored the pain. He swallowed, and it echoed through the silence between them. It was a rock cutting through the still waters, breaking the peace and signaling... something.

"When?" asked Rick. It struck Kate how the normally verbose writer had been reduced to one word questions. She stole his voice. She did ruin him.

"Three years ago. August 4th, 2005. She, um... I had just made detective when she-"

"Stop," Rick said. Kate did. She waited as he took another breath and released the picture. He shook his head. "You don't have to tell me any of this, Kate. I don't need to know." A silent _I don't want to know_ followed in Kate's mind. She was such an idiot. She had to go. She just - she had to get away from him.

Kate reached quickly for her cup of coffee. She pulled at it as she went to slide out and coffee sloshed out of the lid and onto her skin. The scalding liquid sizzled and singed. She pushed through. She even made it completely out of the booth before Rick grabbed hold of her. The abrupt hold shifted her hand enough to spill more coffee on her. Kate winced, though it had as much to do with Rick as the burn. She remained rooted in the spot, but focused elsewhere. She was right all along. Why had she listened to everyone else? Lanie, her dad, Aimee - they didn't know Rick. Apparently, neither did Kate.

"Let me go," Kate said. Rick held on firmly. Kate tugged. Rick sighed.

"I didn't mean anything by that. There's a lot more under the surface than I expected. I'm wrapping my head around it," Rick admitted. It _was_ a lot to take in. She could still hardly handle it and she lived her life. That didn't explain the tears or the abrupt cut off of her sentence. He added, "I'm not walking away. You shouldn't either."

Why shouldn't she? She was poison to everyone she came in contact with. She might help families that didn't know her, but the people who did know her got the short end of the stick. The painful end. She would be selfish to keep him around when she was only going to hurt him.

"I'm not the character you want," she said in way of explanation. Whatever they had needed to stop. She needed to go.

"You're exactly who I want, Kate. You're so unbelievably strong. It's just maddening for me to picture you broken."

Broken? "I'm not broken, Castle."

He frowned softly. He said, "First your mother and then..." His gaze fell back to the photo. Kate's followed it. Aimee and her mother had nothing in common. Aimee was this firecracker while Johanna was a more subdued sort of explosion, like a star burning out millions of light years away. It was true. Johanna's death was not the end, or even the fizzle, of her life. She extended out into the hearts of everyone that she had worked with. She still controlled Kate's thoughts and actions nine years later. And Aimee - oh. Oh. First her mother and then Aimee. Rick thought Aimee was dead? Where on Earth did he get that idea?

"Castle," she said. He looked up at Kate. "I'm not broken. I'm fine, so is Aimee. She's back at Lanie's apartment watching _Dora the Explorer_ on DVD."

Rick's eyes widened once more. "Really?" He sounded so hopeful. So ready to believe and feel something other than the despair that must have been crushing him.

"Really," Kate affirmed.

Rick's sigh of relief blew through Kate until her brain landed on a new conclusion. She _was_ an idiot, but so was Rick. They were both idiots with horrible conversation skills. They needed to work on talking about things in a way that didn't result in storming out and unnecessary explosions.

"So let me get this straight. You have a daughter, who is very much alive, and is not part of the reason you're so... shielded," he ventured. Kate bristled at the word. Shielded sounded like cold. She wasn't cold. Focus. There were more important matters to address.

Kate nodded. "Exactly. You're a quick learner, Castle." The sarcastic dig slipped out of her mouth without conscious thought. That was probably insensitive of her.

Rick defended, "I'm a writer, Kate. I have spent the last two days picturing all of the darkest ways that a toddler could fit into your story. I'm just glad that I was wrong."

His eyes were so true and honest. She glanced down and away only to find herself confronted with their hands. Somewhere along the line, his hand had left her wrist and found hers. Holy shit. How deep in was she? She chanced catching his gaze again. There was that same adoration and trust from before she had told him. He was still him. They were still them.

She squeezed softly on his hand. "Me too."

Rick grinned. For a moment, his eyes colored with something undefinable. Kate knew the look, having seen it before in others, but she shook the label away. It wasn't possible. They had only known each other for two weeks. It wasn't. Rick pulled lightly on Kate's hand to bring her back into the booth with him. She fell back into her spot and grinned.

Rick said, "Tell me about her."

He wanted to know. Okay, talking about Aimee was something that Kate could handle. Her smile broadened as she tried to figure out exactly what to tell him. There were so many things he would get a kick out of. Actually, the day that picture was taken would probably earn her a laugh or two. Kate leaned forward into the table. As she began the story, her features flittered between excitable and comfortable. Her nerves were finally gone.

#

Kate strolled up to the crime scene the next morning, feeling lighter than she had in quite a while. The light breeze that morning swept at her hair, tangling the edges into themselves. She scanned the construction site, the silence of it all almost eerie. There should be loud banging, drills whirring, and cat calls. Instead, there was a clump of men near Detective Ryan and an overly excited Richard Castle. Rick bounced on the balls of his feet, despite having been told numerous times to not look so happy at a crime scene.

She reached Rick silently. There was a moment where he faltered in his excitement just to take her in. She wondered if his mind went back to the night before. They had spent well over an hour swapping stories about their kids. It was... really great. Even the slight third degree from Lanie when Kate went to pick Aimee up could not shatter her good mood. Hell, she still had it even then, at barely five o'clock in the morning at a construction site.

Rick turned quickly and headed towards the group of men. Kate followed. The closer she got, the more she realized the men were looking up. She turned her gaze skyward and found herself getting a bit excited as well. Lanie squatted on rafters in the air, a body near her legs. A frozen body. A melting, frozen body.

Rick said, "Isn't it great? I'm just dripping with enthusiasm."

Kate rolled her eyes. She pushed through the crowd as she retorted, "Take you all morning to come up with that?"

"No. Five minutes. I'm nothing if not witty," Rick said.

"Then I suppose you're nothing," Kate concluded as the crowd finally gave way. A drip of water fell from their victim and landed on her boots. She frowned down at them. Dead body water did not go with leather. She took a step back and wound up colliding with Esposito.

Esposito huffed and rubbed inconspicuously at his eye. He seemed to be the opposite of Rick that morning. His shoulders sagged slightly with the weight of sleep and his reflexes were dulled enough where his only reaction was to sigh a bit heavier. He stuck his hands into his pockets and addressed her.

"Site's active, so there's no way this body was here last night. Lanie says it's frozen solid though, so beat's me where it came from," Esposito relayed. Kate looked from him up to where Lanie was with the body. The medical examiner wasn't looking at the body however. Her gaze was firmly placed on Rick, who seemed to be memorizing every detail of the construction site. Kate waited until Lanie looked at her to give the medical examiner a look to knock it off. Lanie replied with a look that clearly said that she was innocent. Yeah right.

"What do you know, Lanie?" Kate asked.

Lanie broke her survey of Rick to answer. "Female, covered in a plastic garment bag, and frozen, though not by exposure. I won't know much more until she finishes thawing out." Lanie's gaze wandered again at the end of her sentence.

Kate narrowed her eyes and spoke to Esposito without looking at him. "Espo, why don't you and Nancy Drew here go make sure we've got all of the information we need?"

Esposito glanced at Rick and then back to Kate. He asked, "With Castle?"

Kate nodded. "With Castle."

Esposito studied the other man. Rick stood still and offered a curious glance towards the male detective. After a moment, Esposito headed off without a word. Rick followed, no more than a beat behind. Once the two of them were out of earshot, Kate turned her attention back to Lanie. She grabbed onto the metal ladder leading to the rafters and climbed up enough to corner in the M.E.

Kate said, "Okay, out with it. Whatever it is that you're just dying to say, say it."

Lanie smirked. "I was right. That's all." Then she went back to the body. The victim of the week sent chills through Kate's spine for reasons other than the cold. The face stuck on her features was neither peaceful nor terrorizing. It was simply unsettling. Made her skin crawl a bit. Lanie didn't have the same problem. She was smug about it too. Lanie had the Southern stubbornness that meant that she figured herself to be right in every situation. Though, Kate wasn't even sure what the current situation was. If Lanie meant about Kate and Rick being together, then she was wrong. That thought spurred Kate into continuing the conversation.

She caved, "Right?"

Lanie burst up, as if the question released all of the anticipation and energy the silent twenty seconds had gathered. Lanie said, "About Writer Boy. He surprised you, didn't he? I knew he would. It won't be long now until those drinks turn into dinners and dinners into sleepovers and-"

"Lanie!" Kate barked. She glanced around a few times to make sure that no one was around. She turned back to her friend with a glare firmly on her face. Her voice slipped into the same one she used on Aimee when explaining something for the millionth time. "I told you that we're not doing anything."

"I don't see why not. He wants to. You want to. Why not?" Lanie asked, gloved hands in the air as if waiting for the answer to drop from the sky.

Kate lowered her voice and asked, "Why haven't you tried anything with Esposito?"

Lanie's gaze turned harsh in an instant. She scanned the area in her peripheral vision before grumbling, "That is not up for discussion, Kate."

Kate stood tall again. "And neither is Castle." It was a challenge, a warning. If Lanie said something, so would Kate. Honestly speaking, Kate probably would never say anything. Lanie didn't know that. Lanie couldn't be sure of that. Kate knew her friend would give in. She knew it.

"Fine," Lanie huffed.

Kate grinned. "Fine." She turned to go collect the boys. They didn't need to be on their mission anymore.

When Kate was half the way away, Lanie called out, "I give it two months! Max!"

Kate fought with the flush that tried to rise up in her cheeks. Castle glanced curiously, but Kate shook her head. That was not a conversation worth repeating. They had a case to solve.

"So, what'd you find out?"

#

"If you were in his position..." Rick tried. Kate sighed. They had been sitting outside of Ben Davidson's home for five minutes by that point. The entire way there Rick attempted to talk Kate out of arresting the old man. They watched as Ben set the table for his family. He moved without a care in the world. But he did have something to worry about. Ben had killed someone, and he had to pay, no matter how justified his actions might have been.

"I'd go to jail, Castle," said Kate resolutely. Her team would fight her on it probably, but she would do her time.

Rick argued, "Not if there were parents on the jury. Ben did it for the right reasons."

"'The road to hell is paved with good intentions,'" quoted Kate. The light in Rick's eyes dimmed slightly, but his face tightened in determination. He hated this. She did too. It hurt when it came down to the fact that no one was above the law. It hurt when good people, kind people, had to suffer, but it was necessary for order. It was fair.

"We could pretend we never put it together. We could-"

"No," Kate grounded out. Writing things off was how her mother wound up as just another file in the archives. She had to report what she knew. She was forever working towards the one goal that mattered out there. He didn't get that. Not yet. But he was starting to. "That's the difference between a novel and the real world, Castle. A cop doesn't get to decide how the story ends." Before she lost of her resolve, while she still had that bit of strength, Kate went for the door. His hand on her wrist stopped her. Was that his thing now? Stopping her every step of the way?

"Go to dinner with me," he said. What? Kate's face must have resembled a deer in headlights because Rick started backpedaling. He reasoned, "You've hardly eaten all day. I'm sure you're starving. I am. After we leave here, we can get something. It's just like our normal drinks only... solid."

Goodness, he was adorable. The way his eyes kept darting from hers to the door told her how badly he wanted her to stay with him. She almost wanted to say yes, but she had responsibilities even if she didn't act like she did.

"I can't. I have to go get Aimee and then she's got to go to bed and-"

"Bring her with. I'm sure she's hungry too. Come on, Kate. You've got to eat some time."

But that didn't mean then, with him and Aimee. He was talking about him meeting her daughter. Will didn't meet Aimee for months, and they were dating. No. She couldn't. Kate twisted her hand on the handle. She opened her mouth to say no. She really did, but then she saw Ben in the window. His two granddaughters bounced around him, climbing into their chairs for what looked like a really great dinner. Kate was going to ruin that the second she stepped out of the car. She would see his face fall and the girls might cry. She was destroying a family, even if it was the right thing to do. Maybe having something to look forward to after it all wouldn't be so bad. A meal out on the town with the two people who made her smile the most was definitely better than a grilled cheese in her apartment.

Kate nodded shortly. "Alright, Castle. But I'm warning you now. Aimee is... something." Something crazy that bounced off the walls, or hid inside of herself like Kate during a bad case. She was a toddler, which meant that she probably would not be all that pleasant the entire time. She was also extremely particular about her food choices. Did he understand what he was asking for here?

Rick shook away Kate's warning with a swipe of his head. "From you, I wouldn't expect anything less."

Okay. Kate nodded. "Remy's. I'll get Aimee and meet you there."

"It's a date."

#

"Mommy, hurry up! I'm hungry," said Aimee as she skipped through the door to the restaurant. Her long, brown hair flowed behind her like a twirling ribbon. Kate touched her own short hair with a slight sense of longing. Swallowing it down, Kate followed her daughter into Remy's.

Aimee stopped at the front counter and smiled widely at their usual waitress, an old woman by the name of Luciana. Luciana's hair had long since turned grey, giving her a sort of homey feeling without any added assistance. When she smiled, her teeth radiated a wisdom and joy that only came from a nice, long life. Luciana swiped her hands on the blue apron around her waist. She leaned over the counter towards Aimee.

"Hello there, Aimee. How are you today?" Luciana asked.

"I'm great!" Aimee said, "I had lots of fun today. Now, Mommy and I are getting dinner. Can we sit at our favorite table?"

"I don't see why not," Luciana said while pulling out two menus. Kate watched the encounter and debated with herself about mentioning the third menu. If she did, she might have to deal with the third degree from Luciana. If she didn't, she would still have to deal with the third degree and Rick would be present.

Kate said, "Actually, Lu, table for three."

Luciana paused, hand in the air. "Javier?"

Kate shook her head.

"Lanie?"

Kate again shook her head.

Luciana 's eyes narrowed. Her wrinkled hands came to her waist quickly as she took on a flustered motherly tone. "Kate Beckett, is there someone I should know about?"

Aimee giggled as Kate shrunk into herself slightly. Kate brushed at a strand of her hair. What was she going to say? No. It was a no. Rick wasn't a someone-someone. He was just a guy, who she was having dinner with at her favorite little restaurant.

"No," Kate said. "Just a guest for dinner who should be here any second, so let's head to the table." Kate's tone upturned at the end in a subtle plea for the end of this conversation.

Luciana stared at Kate, her disapproval clear on her face. Nevertheless, she added a third menu to the pile in her hand, grabbed a cup of crayons, and started for the Becketts' normal table. It was a booth close to a window that allowed for excellent people watching. Kate and Aimee normally created stories for the people walking around. They would decide where the people were going and why over burgers and fries. It was nice. Rick would probably love it.

Aimee slid into the booth first. The moment she was all the way over, she pulled out the ketchup and the salt shaker. On each one, there was a face drawn in Sharpie. The ketchup was happy, but the salt was sad. She turned them both to face the other side. Aimee used the two to show how she felt about whatever was going on during dinner. If she didn't like her food, she would have the salt facing the other side of the table. If she drew a nice picture, the ketchup smiled away. If she didn't feel anything one way or the other, both would look. It was an interesting system, but Kate had picked it up over the years.

Kate sat on the edge of the bench. Luciana put the menus down and Kate mumbled her thanks. Once Luciana was gone, Kate spun around the salt. Aimee went to change it back, and Kate stopped her.

"Best behavior tonight," Kate reminded her.

Aimee groaned. "I _know_. You told me ten billion times already."

It was sort of true. Kate had spent the entire ride telling Aimee not to make a mess and to use her manners and everything else. She was probably driving the girl mad.

"I'm sorry. I won't say it again," Kate said.

"Say what again?"

Kate and Aimee both turned to see Rick approaching the table. Kate looked from Rick to Aimee and back again. This was really happening. Oh goodness. Wait, he said something. She needed to say something back, something that didn't make her seem like a nervous lunatic that was silently hoping everything went well.

"How delicious the burgers are here," Kate said.

Aimee frowned confusedly. "That's not what you were saying."

Kate silenced her with a look and fought at the blush on her face. Ratted out by her own kid. How rude.

Rick chuckled and held out his hand for Aimee to shake. He introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Rick."

Aimee studied his hand and his face. Kate watched with interest as the girl seemed to debate with herself about what to do. Aimee stood up onto the bench and stuck her hand out as well. She took his hand in her smaller one, which made both adults smile a bit. Kate breathed a slight sigh in relief. Maybe this would dinner work out. Maybe they would have fun.

"I'm Aimee."

Rick grinned at her and snuck his eyes out to meet Kate's. "Pleased to meet you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this ends the chapters that were written and posted way back in November/December. Everything from here on out is written six months later haha. That is, if you all want more. Do you?

**Author's Note:**

> I am currently in the process of revising and writing more for this fic. Any thoughts are still welcome and encouraged.


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